


Tea, Sir?

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: AU, Alcohol, Alternate Universe, BadBoy!Zayn, Bottom Harry, Butlers, Etiquette, Extravagant, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Hotels, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Modern Era, Recreational Drug Use, Sexual Confusion, Solo Artist, Solo Career, Suit Kink, Top Zayn, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Waiters & Waitresses, butler!Harry, butler!Liam, dishwasher!Niall, waiter!Louis
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-30
Updated: 2013-12-22
Packaged: 2017-11-27 14:52:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 44,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/663270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. Two butlers, a waiter and a dishwasher work at one of the most lavish hotels in London. They live normal lives, go about their everyday jobs and never do anything unexpected or out of the ordinary. That is, of course, until one guest in particular arrives and changes everyone's lives. But for better, or for worse? And what happens when one of the butlers is appointed as this mysterious guest's butler?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Miscreant.

Making what felt like his hundredth bed, Harry hummed quietly to himself as he allowed himself the time to zone out for a moment. After placing a simple chocolate mint on both pillows of the bed, he marveled at his work. He was one hell of a bed-maker. At that moment, Liam waltzed in, balancing a jug of water and four glasses on a tray. Harry hurried up to Liam and grabbed the glasses from his shaking hands.

“Thanks,” Liam said with a thankful smile, placing the jug onto the lavish mahogany table and rearranging his tie, also pulling down his waistcoat which became rather bunched up. “I didn’t know you were on duty today, given the fact you were worked silly last night,” Liam commented offhandedly as Harry merely shrugged. “I could do with the money and I don’t mind cleaning around the rooms,” he replied. He was not meant to clean the rooms but did so anyways – it gave him something to do, seeing as nowadays, guests willing to splurge out on the Lanesborough were few and far between.

Liam was a gentleman, to say the least. As one of four butlers at the Lanesborough, his requirements for the job were simple: assist the guest in Junior Suite, unpack their clothes, press their clothes, provide wake-up calls and be of general assistance to the guest in their appointed suite. His master had left a couple of hours ago and Harry had offered to inspect the suite for any possible damages. 

Harry was butler to whatever guest had the money to stay in the Royal Suite. Despite being young, upon working in the hotel since the ages of sixteen and seventeen, Harry and Liam had decided to train as butlers at the International Butler Academy. Formerly, they worked as bartenders and waiters and found that the pay was good, but not good enough.  


Now, at the ages of nineteen and twenty one, they were very nearly the most remarkable butlers that the Lanesborough could have ever decided to hire. Being a butler was not a job for the faint-hearted. Harry gave little thought to himself and focused more on making others happy. He found happiness in other people’s happiness. Odd, but it was the truth.  


“Did you hear the news?” Liam asked Harry as he dug into his waistcoat pocket to find a coin. “I’ve been in here for ages making sure everything’s perfect so, no, I haven’t. Indulge me,” Harry replied, watching as Liam let the coin fall onto the bed in which Harry made and nodding in triumph as it sprung back perfectly into Liam’s hand. “Someone’s booked the Royal Suite.”

Harry’s eyebrows raised and his mouth opened, “Seriously? Who?” he inquired incredulously. “I haven’t been given a name but apparently he’s a ‘miscreant with a plethora of gaudy tattoos,’ Hyacinth’s words, not mine.” Hyacinth was the hotel’s chef. She took great pride in her cooking and was known amongst the Lanesborough’s staff as being a grumpy middle-aged woman who didn't have anything better to do than whine and moan about how society nowadays were all to absorbed in the media and technology, et cetera. 

“He’s a miscreant with gaudy tattoos? Staying in the Royal suite? Now that’s an eye opener,” Harry replied, with a thoughtful frown. Harry was a simple nineteen year old. He never did anything stupid or unexpected. He went to work, did his job, came home, and slept. Some might even say he wasn't a nineteen year old at all, but a 35 year old in a nineteen year old’s body. He couldn't even remember the last time he’d gone out with his friends. His friends were Liam and two others.  


“Just because he has tattoos doesn't indicate he’s a miscreant, don’t mind that loopy chef, Haz, she’s just picking fights again. I’m sure this chap is lovely and not at all delinquent-like,” Liam reassured Harry with a pat on the back. “You have a-” Liam began but stopped himself as he picked a single visible white thread off of Harry’s shoulder. Grabbing a brush from his pocket he scrubbed Harry’s shoulder lightly and after feeling satisfied that Harry’s shoulder was now thread-free, he returned the brush to his pocket. “Have to keep ourselves looking spic and span!” 

-

“I can’t believe I’m here again,” Louis groaned as he let his head fall into his arms resting on the table. “My weekend was far too short!” “It’s not that bad, you always make it out to be far worse than it actually is,” Harry said to Louis as he chose a card from his hand and placed it in the centre of the table. “But I’m fed up! All I do, day in and day out, is wait on people, pour people drinks, which I’d rather be drinking, by the way! And wear this bloody waistcoat and bow tie!” Louis said indignantly as he flicked the black bow.  


“You look lovely in a bow tie, Louis,” Niall snickered, “Just be glad you’re not stuck washing dishes and peeling vegetables.”

“I’d rather peel countless potatoes than deal with a wasted millionaire, thank you very much,” Louis sighed and peered at his cards and proceeded to shake his head, “It’s no use, I’ve got nothing.” Admitting defeat, Louis stretched and placed his hands behind his head, observing the game of cards unfold. 

Liam and Harry sat prim and upright, focusing on the cards in their hands. After a silence and after Louis staring Harry out of it, Harry sighed heavily and put his cards down onto the table, “What are you staring at me for?” Harry asked exasperatingly.

“Oh nothing,” Louis smirked, removing his hands from behind his head and placing one across the back of Niall’s chair instead.

Harry knitted his brows, knowing fully well that it wasn’t “nothing” that Louis was staring at. “Clearly it’s something, so come on, out with it,” he ushered with a wave of his hand.  
Louis always needed to be talked to, to be stimulated, or else he’d grow bored incredibly easily. His boredom was often taken out on Harry.

“I’m guessing Liam has informed you of your new guest?” Louis inquired. Harry nodded. “Have you heard anything about him?” Harry shook his head, his curls falling slightly over his face. He was probably the only butler who defied the norm and allowed his curly mop of hair to be let loose, or rather, the manager allowed him to have his hair let loose.

“I haven’t, no… Should I have?” Harry asked with a lift of his eyebrow, knowing that Louis knew something and was now trying to see if Harry knew also. And after learning that Harry didn’t know, Louis smiled to himself. “I would’ve thought you would have known but, no, you shouldn’t have known I guess-“ “Tell me,” Harry interrupted, his gaze piercing Louis’.

“I don’t think it’s my place to-” “Louis, tell me,” Harry interjected again, “Don’t try me with the whole ‘it’s not my place to interfere’ because that is your place. You practically live in that place.”

With a folding of his arms and a glance at Niall and Liam who had now given up trying to play cards, he nodded and leaned forward, whispering, “Meet me outside at our next break, I’ve got exciting news for you, my dear Harry.”

-

"Louis is such a gossip," Liam said to Harry as they strolled through the luxurious hallways of the Lanesborough, "How could he possibly know anything about this new guest? He's a waiter and a bartender, not a head butler!" Liam continued, but Harry was hardly listening. He tended to go into himself a lot. It wasn't that he found Liam boring, he'd just heard it all before and was frankly sick and tired of Liam's incessant complaints about Louis.

"He may be yes, but I'm curious about this mysterious guest," Harry said as Liam stopped outside of the Grosvenor Suite, and swiped his key card across the detector before the door opened and they walked in. "It's been a while since my services have been needed and I'm happy that I'll no longer be confined to making the bed every day despite no-one sleeping in it the night before, I want to wait on someone again," Harry sighed as he allowed himself to take a seat at the large table in the living room area of the empty suite. The lavish suites were often empty these days. 

Liam gave the suite a quick once over and once he was sure that everything was in order and spotless, he sat himself next to Harry. "The word 'miscreant' keeps playing in my mind," said Harry as Liam nodded, in thought.

"Hyacinth thinks everybody under the age of thirty are miscreants. We're probably miscreants!" Liam laughed but Harry shook his head, no. "I don't think so, Liam. I have a strange feeling that Hyacinth knows what she's talking about, for once."

-

Out in the crisp wintry air at their breaks, Liam and Harry looked on as Niall approached them, his apron an unappealing shade of grunge yellow and his hair all askew. "Well, lads," he gestured in his Irish lilt. "My hands are in bits," he whined and showed them to the two butlers. "I'll survive though, I always do," he said with a smile and a wink.

Louis then appeared from the exit and he grinned upon seeing his friends waiting for him. Harry stood upright and nodded to Louis who glanced behind him. "OK, I'd rather not discuss this here, we should go behind the wall," Louis voiced his worries as he nodded to the doorway in the stone wall which led out onto a lane way shrouded in trees. Milkmen and newspaper deliveries was what mainly came through the doorway, but other than that, it was a quiet little spot where they could chat and not be disturbed or overheard. 

Huddling together, the four young men looked at each other in patience, waiting for Louis to begin. After a bought of silence, Harry frowned at Louis' lasting silence and kicked him in the shin, which earned him a whimper from Louis. "Well come on, tell us," Harry urged, his impatience getting the better of him.

"OK, OK. I overheard Mr. Hawthorne chatting with someone on the phone, when I was out in the yard, just over there," He pointed to the place just outside the exit door where they had previously been standing. Mr. Hawthorne was the strict and posh manager of the Lanesborough, and was a man who would not endure any person who was ignorant to the importance of etiquette and manners. "He was talking about the suite you manage, Harry, the Royal Suite, yes? Well, he told the person on the phone that he was worried about having this person in the suite, because apparently, this person has been known to ruin suites in the past. Could you imagine him ruining the Royal Suite? I'm sure Mr. Hawthorne would never let him live it down! But anyways. He throws a lot of parties, it would seem, and is accustomed to having women over and blaring music at godly hours. Mr. Hawthorne's worst nightmare, I would imagine."

Harry's face was a sight for sore eyes. His mouth muscles had completely slackened and his mouth formed a shapely O, his eyes were staring at Louis in disbelief and he was slowly shaking his head from side to side. "No, no, I can't be of use to a person like that!" He exclaimed as Louis shushed him.

"Will you stay quiet, I wanted to come out here for a reason! But that was all I managed to catch before I was called inside to wait a table. Looks like you've got a miscreant on your hands, Styles!" Louis laughed as he gave Harry a hard pat on the back.

"A miscreant, indeed," Harry mumbled under his breath. "Did you catch his name?" Harry asked Louis who nodded with a smirk on his face. That smirk was a constant feature on Louis' face and right about then, Harry wanted to slap it off.

"His name's Zayn."

-

Harry checked the Suite over multiple times, making sure the bed was perfectly made, the mini bar adequately filled with goodies and then glanced at himself in the mirror. His curls were cooperating with him today, which he was thankful for, but he had a horrid spot on his temple, which he wasn't thankful for. Once everything was in its correct place and met requirements, he scooted over to the door and stood. And waited.

He stood tall with his hands behind his back and his chin held high. He thought back to his teachings in the Butler Academy, "the taller you stand, the more you'll be viewed with respect." At first he felt like an idiot pointing his chin up towards the ceiling, but he became accustomed to it.

Suddenly, he heard voices coming down the hallway, one being Mr. Hawthorne's and another, being this mysterious guest's.

The door opened and in walked Mr. Hawthorne who gave a nod to acknowledge Harry's presence and walked straight into the living room area, past Harry. 

In followed a young male, who wore dark jeans, a nirvana t-shirt with a tattered denim jacket worn over it, and dark shades covering his eyes. His hair was jet black, except for a hint of blonde at its tip. His hair was pushed back and two or three necklaces dangled from his neck. He walked straight past Harry also.

Harry remained in his stance, chin towards the ceiling and hands behind his back. "This is massive!" commented this new guest who left his shades on, despite being indoors. Harry took a mental note to roll his eyes once out of the Suite.

"Indeed it is, and is even larger once explored, Sir," Harry could sense Mr. Hawthorne's slight ignorance towards this young man, which would not be palpable to others but oh, Harry could pin-point the minuscule change in the tone of his voice. "It has three king-size bedrooms and a luxurious bathroom," Mr. Hawthorne went on, as Zayn wondered around the Suite. He peeked into a door and let out a "Nice!" as he launched himself onto one of the king size beds. 

"I'll leave you to it, then, Sir," Mr. Hawthorne called in to Zayn who had since pulled out his blackberry and began typing furiously fast onto it. Mr. Hawthorne went to leave but then caught a glance of Harry who had not yet moved since Zayn's arrival. 

"Oh, excuse me Sir, I would like to introduce you to your butler," Mr. Hawthorne called into Zayn, who emerged from the bedroom, still glancing at his phone.

"I have a butler? Talk about old-fashioned," Zayn smirked until he finally looked up from his phone. His gaze landed on Harry and his smirk disappeared almost immediately.

"Not old-fashioned, Sir, not in the slightest. Mr. Styles here's practically a novice to the job and loves his line of work," Mr. Hawthorne assured Zayn. Zayn simply nodded and kept his gaze on Harry, who remained with his hands behind his back and his chin held high. He was not to speak until spoken to.

"Mr. Styles, is it?" Zayn asked Harry. Harry's chin dropped and he faced Zayn head on now, and noticed the considerable growth of facial hair on the young man's face. "You're hardly even older than me, Mr. Styles, what are you doing as a butler?" Zayn asked, not intentionally to cause harm, but it did hurt Harry a bit due to the tone of voice Zayn put on.

"Hardly, Sir," Harry agreed. He was always taught that it was best to give the guest's what they wanted to hear. He could have been younger, for all he knew, but he would have to get to know Zayn more before he was eligible to ask his own questions. 

"I'll leave you to it then, Sir!" Mr. Hawthorne said with a clap of his hands, "Mr. Styles will look after your every need. He provides endless services and I'm sure will be of great company to you during your stay. Welcome to the Lanesborough!" With a shake of Zayn's hand and a briefing on the rules of what-not to do in a £10,000 a night Suite, Mr. Hawthorne was gone.

Silence ensued as Zayn wandered into the kitchen and grabbed an apple which Harry had polished with a cloth earlier. Harry remained in his place and grew weary. Usually by now, the guests would have him doing a multitude of chores.

Zayn appeared again in the hallway and sauntered over to Harry. "So," Zayn began, and paused as he took a chunk out of his apple, "Could you recommend me any good clubs, Mr. Styles?" 

Harry sighed inwardly, but merely said, "I beg your pardon, Sir?" Zayn laughed at Harry and repeated his question to which Harry replied, "I do not frequent such places, Sir."

Zayn's eyes went wide for a moment before he leant against the wall opposite Harry and continued eating his apple, still staring at Harry. Harry felt uncomfortable under his master's gaze. Because, technically speaking, Zayn was his master now. God help him.

"So, do you just stand there the whole time?" Zayn inquired, quite rudely, Harry noted, but Harry was a professional and would remain courteous to his master.

"I do, Sir. I await your command, Sir," Harry answered, and noticed Zayn's lips twitch ever-so-slightly into a devilish grin. The young man removed his sunglasses, "Finally," thought Harry, and threw them onto the mahogany table. 

"Do you know who I am?" Zayn asked, "Not to sound pompous, I'm just curious..."

Harry knew his first name, but not his second. "I do not, Sir, Mr. Hawthorne hadn't briefed me on your details," Harry replied and cursed his manager for not de-briefing Harry about this peculiar person. He wouldn't say "Zayn," because Butler's didn't call their master's by their first name.

"Naughty Mr. Hawthorne!" Zayn mocked, but Harry remained stoic and serious. "Well, I'm Zayn. Zayn Malik."

Harry's tongue almost fell out of his mouth and his eyes almost went wider than ever as the name immediately went hand in hand with numerous tabloid headlines. Zayn was one of the most sought-after singer/songwriters in the world. But he wasn't only recognised for his singing, oh no. He'd had many run-ins with the law, mostly drug-related and drink-related, as well as many headlines about his incessant tendency to disturb hotel guests with his parties, his trashing of hotel rooms and his affinity for any woman that breathed. How had he not recognised Zayn? Harry put it down to the blonde streak in his hair and the shades covering his eyes. 

But he composed himself and nodded, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Malik."

Zayn noticed the slight dip in Harry's composure upon hearing his name, and smiled at his Butler. What an unsuspecting soul he was, thought Zayn. 

"Oh no, It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Styles."

It would seem that Hyacinth was right. A miscreant was what he was indeed.


	2. Tension.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Their relationship will be moving swiftly from here on in.

Harry remained in the Suite for what felt like hours. Zayn had retreated to his room for a nap, after explaining to his butler that he had just gotten off a nine hour flight from San Francisco. Well for some, Harry thought.

Harry was not expected to leave until Zayn released him from his services, and Harry doubted Zayn knew this, but Harry didn't have the authority to speak up and inform the young star of how to treat a butler. Zayn hadn't seemed all too pleased at having a butler, which made Harry feel unwanted, out of place and worst of all, futile. 

In the presence of Zayn, Harry couldn't help but notice the changes that were evident in himself. Zayn intimidated him. Harry never felt intimidated, not by anyone. There was something about Zayn that engendered unease in Harry. The star's attitude was appalling and his approach to Harry hadn't exactly been polite. If Mr. Hawthorne had still been in the room when Zayn was chatting with Harry, it's needless to say that Zayn would no longer be in the Lanesborough, but instead on the side of the road.

To be quite frank, Harry found Zayn to be rude, full of himself and lacking manners. Upon standing just outside the door in the suite's hallway, Harry recalled seeing various headlines associated to Zayn. He tried to remember some, and one story in particular sprung to mind. It spoke about how Zayn had attended a nightclub and upon leaving the nightclub, was seen leaving with a copious amount of lady friends, as well as possible guy friends. The paparazzi had followed Zayn and his crew to his home and one gutsy pap. had managed to sneak into the garden, where he apparently witnessed Zayn and his friends downing shots and smoking blunts. 

He heard the bedroom door opening and immediately shook himself out of his daze and forced his mind to forget he ever read that story. Harry, being the strong-minded, smart boy he was, never condoned recreational drug use. He didn't think any butlers did. Least of all, Liam.

Zayn waltzed out of his room with his hair askew. He rubbed his eyes, and elicited a long yawn. Harry stood in his usual position, and allowed himself a glance at the young male who walked towards the suite's window. He wore a grey tank top, boxers and white socks. Harry's eyes drifted over the tattoos dotted around Zayn's body. "Hyacinth was spot on in terms of the tattoos," Harry noted to himself. 

Once Zayn turned away from the window, he very nearly jumped out of his skin upon seeing Harry standing at the door. "Jesus christ, man!" Zayn let out a heavy sigh, "I thought you were some crazed fan who managed to sneak your way in here." Harry scoffed inwardly at Zayn's ego. 

"What are you still doing here, anyways?" Zayn side glanced at Harry as he sat himself down at the dining table and began scrolling through his phone. "I'm to remain in the suite to serve you, Sir," Harry replied curtly. 

"Serve me? I won't need any serving, Mr. Styles," Zayn assured his curly-haired butler who appeared to have almost instantly deflated. "You can leave now."

Harry stood stock still and attempted not to exclaim his annoyance with Zayn's ignorance to the role of the butler. "If you wish, Sir," Harry nodded, accepting defeat. He turned himself towards Zayn and bowed, before standing up straight and rearranging his waistcoat. He turned to leave.

As he reached for the door handle, he paused. He didn't have to be spoken to in that way, he never deserved to be spoken to in that way. This was his job and he wasn't going to be simply thrown to the wind because some pop-star more than likely is opposed to having a butler because said butler would constantly be in his suite, and Zayn probably wished to be left alone to his own devices. Those devices being partying, drinking and causing havoc in the Lanesborough. Well, 'Mr. Styles,' would show him.

"Sir?" Harry spoke up and turned slowly to face Zayn who gave no thought to the fact that Harry was talking back to him. Harry knew Zayn didn't have a clue about a butler's etiquette and figured he would be completely fine if he spoke to Zayn without being spoken to first.

Zayn stared at Harry, who remained in the doorway with his hands behind his back and his feet firmly on the ground. Harry felt uncomfortable over the stares Zayn had been giving him ever since he arrived. It was like the young male was calculating how much damage he could do to this pristine young butler through his words. "Yes, Mr. Styles?" Zayn replied slowly, his glare never fading.

Harry gulped and felt himself becoming increasingly heated underneath his suit. Zayn's intimidating aura was affecting him. With a breath and an attempt to gain composure, Harry gained enough courage to say, "I have been appointed as your butler and plan on remaining as your butler, whether you would like me to or no. I understand that you will be absent from your suite for the majority of your stay, but I'll be more than happy to tidy up and keep your clothes in order, as well as provide snacks-"

"What age are you, Mr. Styles?" Zayn interrupted Harry's speech. Harry stopped abruptly and frowned at Zayn. It would appear that Zayn hadn't been listening to Harry in the slightest. Probably as a corollary of his intense stare he held on Harry.

"I'm nineteen, Sir," he replied, "But as I was saying, Sir-" Zayn held his hand up in front of his face to gesture Harry to stop talking. "You're nineteen? And you told me earlier that you don't go to clubs? My my, Mr. Styles, you're unlike any other nineteen year old I've ever met," Zayn said with a laugh.

Harry was furious. He disliked Zayn's remarks about him being different and felt that Zayn was purposely trying to engender fury in Harry. It was as if he wanted Harry to crack under the pressure. "I have a full-time job, Sir, and give little thought to attending such places," Harry explained, and counted down from ten to prevent himself from storming out of the suite. This was ridiculous.

"God, you speak like you're from 1920s England, not 2013!" Zayn laughed mockingly. It's a job requirement, Harry huffed to himself. "Well, Mr. Styles, I should bring you to one of these clubs, when you have time off-"

"No, no... Sir, that won't be necessary. The offer is kind, but I'd rather not... Sir," Harry stepped forward and immediately regretted doing so, as Zayn lifted a questioning eyebrow, and his eyes practically challenged Harry to drop the butler facade then and there. "Thank you, Sir, but, no," Harry went on again, his nerves getting the better of him.

Zayn remained silent for a while and merely observed his butler's characteristics. Curly hair, sallow skin, plump rosy lips and a fitted full-piece suit - He was quite attractive, Zayn concluded. Mr. Styles' appearance confused him even more, in terms of why it was that this young man was limiting his life experiences due to his duty as a butler. 

"Suit yourself, Mr. Styles," Zayn sighed and turned away from Harry. Harry relaxed considerably and shut his eyes for a moment in relief that he hadn't done anything stupid. "You can have your break, now, I suppose."

Harry gave a courteous nod and turned to leave. "Oh, and Mr. Styles?" Zayn peeped his head into the hallway. Harry paused and turned to face the young male.

"I thought butler's weren't supposed to speak until they themselves were spoken to?" Harry opened his mouth to reply but shut it immediately. So, Zayn was aware of a butler's etiquette. It sure hadn't seemed like he knew upon their first encounter.

"Good afternoon, Sir," and with that Harry was gone.

-

Niall and Louis were chatting on a bench out in the yard when Harry came rushing over to them. "How was the miscreant, then?" Louis asked Harry as he sat himself down and began shaking his head. "What? What's wrong?" Niall inquired as Harry continued shaking his head. He paused and tore off his suit jacket, to reveal his waistcoat and bow tie.

"He's a rude, arrogant, pompous, egotistical, conceited jerk!" Harry burst out all of a sudden as he bent his head so his curls fell over his face, and then pushed the mop of hair back with his left hand. "He doesn't understand that I'm his butler, I have to tend to his every need and remain in the room! He practically insulted my lifestyle by saying he hadn't met a nineteen year old like me before and he continuously spoke down to me, I just-"

"Whoa, Harry, whoa. Calm down, mate!" Louis attempted to be the peace maker. "I'm sure you're overreacting, this Zayn fella can't be that bad."

"Malik," Harry merely said. Niall let out a laugh at Louis' facial expression, which instantaneously went from happiness to downright disbelief. Louis elbowed the Irishman in the ribs and continued talking to Harry as Niall got the picture to remain silent, "You are joking! Wow, Zayn Malik. Could you ask him if he'd sign my sisters CD?" 

"What? No, no I couldn't Louis!" Harry refused and tutted at Louis' indifference to Harry's obvious dilemma, even though he didn't know what it was, it was clear that he had one. 

"I was only asking, Christ. What's the problem? Despite him being a general asshole," Louis was always so charming with his words.

"As I said, he's just plain rude and doesn't value the work I'm willing to do for him," Harry loosely explained. Of course there was more as to why Harry felt disdain for the Lanesborough's new guest. Harry had felt nauseous in the presence of Zayn. Or was it nausea? He described it as being nausea, but even when he said it was nausea, he knew that that wasn't it at all. He couldn't describe or explain what he felt in the presence of the renowned 'Mr. Malik.'

Louis put his hands together so they formed a steeple under his chin as he listened to Harry's qualms. "Maybe you're jealous of him?" Louis offered his completely inaccurate observation, which was met with a frown from Harry, "Oh please I'd rather not spend my nights gyrating against some poor unsuspecting woman, thank you very much." With a folding of his arms and a deep sigh, Harry's mind couldn't help picturing Zayn. He was nice to look at, sure, but his attitude was awful.

"I say the three of us and Liam go for a pint tonight after work. It seems like an age since you came out for a drink, Harry!" and by a drink Louis meant a diet coke, seeing as Harry didn't drink and had never intended to drink. "It'll take your mind off this nuisance that is Zayn Malik, international bad-boy pop-star who also happens to be an asshole," Louis smiled at Harry. Harry gave a gentle smile back, "Yeah, sure, why not? I'm sure Mr. Malik won't need me tonight, or ever, for that matter."

-

Upon returning to the Royal Suite, Harry was relieved to find the Suite empty. He walked around all the rooms. Zayn had unpacked a few things, including some questionable toiletries and what looked like a video-game collection which was thrown carelessly around the PlayStation in front of the flat-screen television. Harry went about rearranging the collection in a neat pile and pushed the PlayStation further in so no-one would fall over it. 

Harry called room service to deliver some more refreshments, as it looked like Zayn had a few beers and food from the mini fridge. Dirty plates were left haphazardly on the kitchen counter and Harry sighed, removing his suit jacket and placing it neatly on the back of a chair. He unbuttoned his shirt's sleeves and rolled them up to his elbows. It wasn't what he had in mind when he heard he'd be a butler to a star, but it was better than doing nothing at all. And maybe he could prove to Mr. Malik that he was, in fact, useful.

When the dishes were put away and the living area looking relatively clean, Harry was satisfied with his work and wondered what else he could do. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed the door to Zayn's bedroom slightly ajar. He averted his gaze and looked down at the ground as he recalled earlier when Zayn had emerged from the bedroom looking all rested and dewy-eyed, his hair a mess and his eyes squinting in the light of the living area. Harry attempted to rid himself of the image, but alas, it was going to remain in his head for a long time.

A knock on the door snapped him out of his reverie. Harry composed himself and walked over to the door, opening it, only to be greeted by Niall and Louis, "Room service!" Niall exclaimed in glee. "I tried to keep him away but he insisted on coming," Louis muttered as himself and Niall pushed past Harry and waltzed into the Suite. Harry went to close the door but Louis stopped him, "Liam's coming too," Louis explained as Harry stood with a dumbfounded expression on his face.

"Oh, of course, how could I possibly not allow yet another person into the hotel suite of a star who, I'm pretty sure, could have us arrested for snooping," Harry rolled his eyes as Liam came into the suite. "Snooping? We're not snooping! We're inspecting," Louis explained as he unloaded the cart he and Niall had brought up from the kitchen, containing champagne bottles, cigars and beer. 

Harry observed the items being unloaded from the cart, "Is there any food there?" Harry asked his friends as they shook their heads in unison, "Zayn asked Hyacinth himself that if anything were to be delivered to his suite, it would need to be these items, as well as others which we shan't mention.." Louis snickered, Harry was going to ask, but in the end decided he'd rather not know.

"It's nice, this place, so this is your workplace," Niall said to Harry. Given the fact that Niall was a simple dishwasher, he was rarely allowed up onto the floors where people would actually see him. But Louis must have found him appropriate attire to wear for the occasion, Harry noted.

"If you're discovered here, both you and I will be dead so hurry up and leave the treats here and go!" Harry hurried Niall and Louis. Liam was fine where he was, seeing as he himself was butler to the Junior Suite, just down the hallway. 

"Right, but just after we inspect his room," Louis exclaimed as he bounded across the living area and into the room which Zayn had emerged from earlier. "Louis!" Harry shouted in warning as he followed after the waiter.

The curtains were still drawn and the bed unmade, but upon entering the bedroom, Harry was hit instantaneously by the alluring scent that came from the unmade bed. Zayn's distinct scent in the bed which he had only made yesterday with Liam. "Louis, get out, you have no right to be in here," he urged, as he ran over to Louis who now stood by the bedside table rummaging through various items Zayn placed in the drawer.

"Oh, look at this!" Louis exclaimed as he produced various small squared packets. "Looks like Mr. Malik has something in store for himself tonight," he snickered as Harry tensed and looked toward the door where Liam and Niall stood, shaking their heads. "Large/Medium size-"

"Louis!" Harry interjected with despair as his voice broke and squeaked. With a wink, Louis returned the condoms to their rightful place and got up to leave, "Nothing interesting here at all, what a waste," Louis sighed.

Harry was at his wits end and grabbed all three young men by their arms, "You need to get out, and quick, I'll meet you tonight at the pub, alright?" and with that they were gone.

Leaning against the door, Harry closed his eyes and breathed slowly, trying to calm himself down. He glanced down at his suit's slacks and bit his lip as he thanked the lord that his arousal was not made evident. Well, as of yet, it wasn't. 

-

Harry went with Liam, Niall and Louis to the pub that night and allowed his worries to be forgotten about as he laughed and just generally enjoyed himself. Taking his mind off of the notorious Mr. Malik was difficult, but so far so good; an evening with his friends was working like a charm.

Liam, Niall and Louis were all drinking. Niall and Louis were drinking beer and Liam was sipping red wine. He rarely drank, but had decided he'd deserved It just this once.

Harry excused himself as he went up to the bar to get another diet coke. It was nice taking some time off of work. He would have to return back soon, though. Whilst he had a master, he was required to stay the night in the hotel's quarters for staff. He didn't mind, really, the beds there were incredibly comfortable and he was provided with a free breakfast. And he was getting paid for it, which was a bonus.

The pub he and the others frequented was quaint, off the beaten track and generally saw little business, except for weekends. As Harry ordered his coke and pulled out his wallet from his jacket pocket, he heard a voice at the end of the bar call his name. Looking up to see the source of the voice he cursed under his breath as his eyes landed on none another than Zayn. 

"Mr. Styles, aren't you supposed to be back at the Lanesborough tidying my Suite?" Zayn asked coyly. Harry took in the other man's scent. Smoke and alcohol, as well as that scent from Zayn's unmade bed.

"Good evening, Sir. I was let off duty by Mr. Hawthorne, Sir, who believed I would be of use to you only when you arrived back at the hotel past 2am," he so very badly wanted to walk away from Zayn and be rid of the nausea he felt in the pit of his stomach. Or not nausea. Whatever it was.

"Oh?" Zayn commented, taking a swig from his pint glass. "I suppose you're wondering why I'm here and not at Aura, or somewhere where the party's really going?"

Harry didn't answer but instead fixed Zayn with a glare that let him know he was listening to what Zayn had to say, "Well, to answer your question, Mr. Styles, my own company is best at this moment in time. In case you haven't read the papers, my girlfriend left me after allegations that I'd fucked three other women. Which isn't true, I'd fucked two of them."

Harry flinched and remained tense at Zayn's choice of words that were completely demeaning to these women he'd made love to. "I never intended for her to find out, but that's life in the limelight, for you, Mr. Styles," Zayn's words were slurring and his eyes were droopy. He was drunk, Harry concluded. 

"I'm sorry to hear about your girlfriend, Sir," Harry managed to remain civilised as he received a smile from Zayn. "No need to be sorry, she was a bitch," and with that Zayn knocked back his pint and stood up abruptly.

"Can I talk to you outside, Mr. Styles?" Zayn asked as he threw money onto the bar and kept intense eye contact with Harry. Harry very badly wanted to say no, but knew that It would be best to give a drunk what he wants and not cause any ruckus. 

Harry looked back over to the table where Liam, Louis and Niall sat and once he realised that they were too absorbed in their conversations to notice his absence, he nodded to Zayn, "Of course, Sir."

Zayn led the way out into the crisp night air.


	3. Games.

The cold air hit Harry like a tonne of bricks and turned his cheeks rosy and his breath icy. He dug his hands into his jacket pocket and stood shivering as Zayn lit a cigarette, took a drag and stood with one foot against the alley’s wall and his back firmly supplanted against it. Harry had to admit to himself that Zayn practically oozed cool, as much as it pained him to say so.

“I want to ask you something,” Zayn interrupted Harry’s thoughts. Harry watched the smoke trickle over Zayn’s bottom lip and float into the air, mesmerised. His opposition to drugs also applied to smoking and alcohol, but there was something about it that was incredibly tantalising. Harry assented to Zayn’s request to ask him a question.

“I understand the rules surrounding the Suite I’m staying in, and also understand that I can’t have anyone associated with trouble in my Suite…” Zayn trailed off and looked up at Harry through his eyelashes. “So, I was wondering if you’d maybe know of a back entrance I can bring some friends in through?” 

Harry’s hopes faded instantaneously. He didn’t exactly know what he hoped Zayn would drag him out into the cold night for, but he sure as hell hadn’t hoped that it would be about attempting to sneak his socialite friends into the Lanesborough. “Sir, I’m sorry, I can’t help you-”

Harry avoided eye contact with Zayn and kept his head down as he brushed past the young star and went to make his way back into the pub, when Zayn reached out and grabbed Harry’s upper arm. “Please, Mr. Styles.”

Harry froze and stared at Zayn’s hand on his arm. He was gripping him far more tightly than was necessary. His gaze went from Zayn’s firm grip, to his strikingly hazel-coloured eyes. Glancing down at Zayn’s hand again, he noticed a large, bright tattoo on his forearm reading “Zap!” Inwardly, Harry rolled his eyes at the tackiness. 

“I’ll be sure to not let your manager find out, and I’ll be as quiet as I can possibly manage!”

“Your definition of quiet and my definition of quiet are probably polar opposites, Sir, excuse me for saying so,” Harry did feel sympathy for Mr. Malik. He saw something in the young star’s eyes that wasn’t happiness or sadness. He couldn’t pin point what it was about Zayn, but Harry pitied him.

Zayn loosened his grip and chewed the inside of his mouth – a nervous habit of his, Harry noted, but then questioned his reasoning for noting Zayn Malik’s nervous habits. 

“Fine, Mr. Styles.” Accepting defeat, Zayn took one last drag of his cigarette and tossed it onto the ground before stamping out its glowing ash.

He went to walk away before stopping and looking behind him, “Are you coming or what?” Zayn asked Harry who tilted his head and replied, indignantly, “I’m afraid not, Sir. I will, however, be returning at some point tonight.” That’d show him. Harry wasn’t going to be summoned like a dog on his time off. He smirked inwardly in triumph.

Zayn just stared at Harry, frowning, “Aren’t you supposed to obey me? Is that not what you’ve wanted all this time?” 

Harry held back a whimper at the words that tumbled out of Zayn’s foul mouth. If taken out of context, Zayn’s words could be taken the completely wrong way. Harry took them the wrong way. And he also had a hunch that Zayn purposely chose those very particular words to mess with Harry.

“Because at this point, if you don’t, I’ll be informing your manager,” he pointed his finger at Harry, as if he were a child being scolded.

“This is my time off, and will be for another hour. So informing Mr. Hawthorne of my ‘disobedience,’ is useless and will get you nowhere… Sir,” Harry practically spat the word Sir out of his mouth. “You’re rid of me for a while, Sir, aren’t you relieved?”

He remained mute and processed Harry’s words in his head. Zayn just gave a manic laugh and turned to walk away immediately, “Suit yourself, Styles! Suit. Yourself!” as Zayn fast-walked back towards the Lanesborough, a car pulled up beside him and flashes ensued as the paparazzi seemed to finally locate his whereabouts.

Harry thanked the heavens that their dispute hadn’t been caught on camera, and that he wasn’t pictured with Zayn’s hand clutching his upper arm. The tabloids would have snatched up the story of Zayn talking to a butler in dark alleyway like crazy. 

He looked down the road after Zayn as the star held his middle finger up to the paparazzi for the remainder of his walk back to the Lanesborough.  


Harry promised himself to check on Zayn tomorrow morning, but for tonight, he just needed to be alone.

-

Harry walked into the Royal Suite and glanced at the mirror to his right. Taking out a handkerchief from his pocket, he scrubbed away a mark, before turning and further making his way into the suite, only to meet Zayn head on who had appeared out of nowhere.

“Sir! I didn’t see you-”

Zayn was smiling at him. It was a soft smile, a smile that stopped his heart. “What?” he asked quietly, as he took a hesitant step backwards, but Zayn continued with his approach.  


“Would you like me to set out your suit, S-Sir?” he was nervous now, and blabbering nonsense, but there was hunger in Zayn’s eyes. And it was a hunger for Harry. 

“Or perhaps you’d prefer to opt for something…” at that moment Zayn’s hand reached out and rested on Harry’s cheek “…Casual,” he breathed out shakily as he leant into Zayn’s touch and shut his eyes, mentally saving this moment in his mind.

“Harry,” Zayn sighed, as if this was what he’d wanted ever since his eyes set on the young butler. His thumb stroked across Harry’s cheek lightly. 

“Mr. Styles?”

Harry furrowed his brow as a distant voice pried into the situation. “Mr. Styles?” it said again.

Harry chose to ignore the voice and instead opened his eyes to find Zayn’s hand by his side now. He took in a breath as Zayn leant forward, his hazel eyes closing and Harry’s closing in response, when-

“MR. STYLES!”

Harry shot up out of his bed, almost knocking over Zayn as he did so. He stared breathless at Zayn who had an expression of surprise on his face. “Calm down, I just came down to ask if you could iron my suit for a premiere I have to attend tonight-”

“How did you find my room?!” exclaimed Harry as he paused and glanced down at himself. Of course this was the one night that he chose to sleep in his tank top and boxers. Self-consciously, he crossed his arms across his chest and shot Zayn daggers.

“I…” Zayn began and realised how much of an intrusion this was, as he glanced around at Harry’s small room. “I just asked Hyacinth, she was more than happy to help… Sorry, I thought you’d be awake,” he apologised and Harry was almost taken aback as he recognised embarrassment on the star’s face. Zayn? Embarrassed? It was him who should have been embarrassed.

“I’m sorry. I did knock though…” silence ensued as the two stood awkwardly in the small room.

Harry opened his mouth to speak once, twice, and then on the third time finally managed to come up with an excuse to get Zayn out, “If you drop it in here on your way out, I’ll be sure to iron it for you, Sir,” he adopted his butler persona and stood upright, with his hands behind his back and his chin up. It was difficult to look prim and proper when you were stood before a renowned star in your underwear, though. 

“I wanted to apologise for last night, actually, I was unnecessarily mean, but that’s what I’m like after drinking...”  


Harry waved a hand in dismissal of his apology and hoped to god that he’d just leave already. 

Zayn simply nodded and gave Harry a tight smile before turning to leave.

“Good morning, Sir,” Harry called after him quietly.

“Good morning, Mr. Styles,” Zayn mumbled without looking back.

Harry collapsed onto his bed and dropped his head into his hands. The dream was nothing like he’d ever experienced before. To be frank, he rarely had dreams like the one he just had. Those dreams were few and far between and weren’t nearly as driven with heat as that one was… And they would normally consist of women, not men. 

He’d broken out in a cold sweat during the night and upon touching his mop of hair, felt the uncomfortable dampness in his hairline. He groaned as the whole mess of the situation hit him. Zayn had seen him in his underwear; Harry had seen Zayn in his. There was a very obvious barrier being crossed between them.

The only real explanation for Harry’s unease, nervousness and nausea, coupled with this quite graphic wet dream he had just had, was covert.

Harry had a crush on Zayn Malik.

 

-

 

Liam was about to enter into the Junior Suite after finally acquiring a master who would be staying for the better part of six months. He felt dizzy when he totted up the cost which would involve such a lengthy stay in the Lanesborough. 

Grabbing clean towels and bathroom utensils from the cart in the hallway, he spotted Zayn leaving his Suite, with dark shades and a checkered shirt on. Zayn spotted him as well as he lifted a hand to greet Liam.

“Hey, mister!” he called out as he jogged over to Liam. “I was wondering if you could tell me a little bit about one of the butlers.”

Liam put down the towels carefully and knew immediately that Zayn was prying into Harry’s personal life, which was odd. “Of course, Sir. But I must warn you that a staff’s personal information is confidential and I may not be able to answer all your questions.”

He nodded in acknowledgement and glanced around himself and Liam before leaning forward, “I have a butler, his name’s Mr. Styles. And all I want to know, really, is what kind of a person he is.”

Liam’s expression softened at Zayn’s request, but then again, he was still curious as to why he wanted to obtain this information, “I know Mr. Styles very well,” he admitted, “And can easily tell you that he is the kindest and most intelligent young man I know,” he said truthfully. He was definitely the most intelligent, given the fact that he had Louis and Niall as friends…

Zayn was nodding his head and awaiting more information, “He puts himself before others and I’m certain of the fact that I’ve never heard him utter a single objection or complaint. He does his job diligently and loves every minute of it and is a very quiet boy who would much rather prefer a quiet night in than a wild night out.”

So himself and Mr. Styles were polar opposites, Zayn concluded.

“And would he happen to have a girlfriend?” Zayn wasn’t one to cut corners. 

Liam furrowed his brow and looked behind Zayn to make sure Harry wasn’t making his way up the hallway, “No, Sir, he does not. And for as long as I’ve known him, he has never had a girlfriend. I’m afraid I have to attend to my Master. So, if you’ll excuse me,” Liam picked up his towels and went back into the Junior Suite. He wasn’t entirely comfortable with that last question Zayn asked him.

He would be sure to inform Harry of his Master’s bizarre questions.

 

-

 

After calming himself down following the incident in his room with some tea, Harry arrived at the Royal Suite later in the evening in his new suit. The style wasn’t new. In fact, it looked exactly like his old one. But he thought he’d treat himself to a new, better fitted suit and it had arrived by post in the afternoon.

He entered the suite to find Zayn talking loudly on the phone, very loudly. 

Harry shut the door quietly and braced himself to face Zayn. It was beginning to become a personal battle to try and remain calm and collected around his Master. Having accepted the emotions he was feeling, he knew deep down that he could never voice his feelings. Not in a million years. He accepted that, he really did.

But if Zayn continued to push Harry’s buttons, the inevitable would be Harry’s admission of his feelings.

It was only a crush, he knew that much. Or think he knew. He wasn’t entirely experienced on that side of things whereas Zayn, he guessed, most certainly was. 

What was still baffling to him was the speed at which he gained these emotions. Zayn annoyed him, even infuriated him, with his insouciant attitude and ignorance. But there was just something that Harry liked about him and he couldn’t quite put his finger on it, aside from the fact that Zayn was easy on the eyes.

He was snapped out of his reverie as Zayn slammed the phone down onto the table. There was that beautiful attitude Harry was talking about.  


Harry handed him the suit he had ironed for him and awaited instruction.

Zayn retreated into the bedroom and emerged moments later with his suit on. He looked smart, Harry noted.

His tie hung un-tied around his neck as he re-adjusted the collar. He began to fumble with his tie, as Harry watched on.

“I can never manage these fucking things,” Harry dispelled the need to tell off Zayn for his swearing.

He looked up towards Harry and Harry knew what he was going to ask even before he asked it, “Would you mind?” Zayn inquired, pointing at the undone tie.

Harry’s mind started screaming at him to shorten the distance between himself and Zayn as quickly as possible, but his body remained stoic as he uttered an “Of course, Sir.”  


Harry removed the tie from around Zayn’s neck and fixed its length. His hand only slightly brushed Zayn’s hair, but that was enough to keep him thinking about it for the remainder of the night.

The silence that ensued nearly drove Harry insane, so he decided to talk through the method of tying a tie. 

“The rabbit hops over the narrow end of the tie,” Harry began as he followed the rhyme’s instruction, “The rabbit crawls under the log,” he continued as he pulled the wider end of the tie behind, “The rabbit runs around the log,” Zayn found himself smiling widely at his butler, “The rabbit dives through the rabbit hole at the top end of the log,” Harry’s brows were furrowed in concentration and his tongue very slightly stuck out, “…And, tighten.” He tightened the finished tie and pressed lightly against it, feeling Zayn’s chest in the process.

He feared looking up at Zayn. He had just sung a silly tie-tying rhyme to Zayn Malik and knew he’d be attempting to supress laughter.

He took a small step back and eventually his eyes rose to meet Zayn’s which appeared glossy and dark.

“That was wonderful,” Zayn said, his voice creeping through the quiet air of the Royal Suite. “Who taught you that?” he asked.

“My grandfather,” Harry replied, “When I was training in the Butler Academy, I had difficulty with tying my tie I had to wear then, so he taught me how to… Tie it…” he trailed off as he felt the story ended long ago. “Oh, er, Sir,” he added quickly. 

Already he was forgetting himself in Zayn’s presence.

“Well tell your grandfather that he needs to teach me that. Or, you could teach me it?” Zayn asked with a twinkle in his eye. 

He was flirting. He had to be flirting. But why would he be flirting? Voices were screaming in Harry’s head, each drowning out the other.

“I’d love to,” Harry replied curtly. “…Sir-”

“You don’t need to keep calling me Sir, Mr. Styles, honestly,” Zayn interjected Harry’s addition to his sentence. 

“I’d prefer to call you Sir… Sir.”

“And I’d prefer it if you called me by my name, Mr. Styles,” Zayn suppressed a smile that was playing on his lips and Harry just wanted to find a bath of ice and bathe himself in it for the remainder of the night.

“If that’s your preference... Zayn,” it felt foreign calling his Master by his first name. But upon hearing it from his lips, it felt right. It felt like he and Zayn weren’t just Master and Butler.

The young star’s predatory approach to Harry made him feel pleasantly apprehensive. 

“Your suit is new,” Zayn commented as he took one large step towards Harry and in a flash his hands were up on Harry’s bow tie. He tightened it and stared into Harry’s bright eyes.

“How did you-” “Your suit jacket is better fitted and your waistcoat hugs you more tightly than before.”

Harry shut his eyes as he took in this information. Zayn’s very detailed observations unnerved him and drove him to a point where he’d never been before. He felt arousal surge up through him, from his fingertips right down to his toes and he bit down hard on his bottom lip to control his speech.

Zayn smirked at the younger male’s reaction.

“What’s your first name, Mr. Styles?” Zayn asked as he released Harry’s bow tie and let his hands run down his arms, feeling his slight muscle definition.

This was the first time Harry realised that Zayn didn’t know his name. He was tempted to tease Zayn, given his vulnerable, more-than-likely turned on position, but decided against it.

Feeling bold, Harry inched his head forward to Zayn’s ear.

“Harry,” he said in the smallest of whispers.

“Harry,” Zayn repeated, as if approving of his name, as he took a step back and looked Harry up and down.

“Well, Harry, I need to get to this premiere,” Zayn’s sudden change in character left Harry cemented in his spot staring ahead of him in confusion.

Zayn approached the door and paused, looking back at Harry, “But you’ll be here when I get back, won’t you?” Zayn asked coyly.

Harry pulled down his waistcoat which had become bunched up and straightened out his bow tie before finally turning to face Zayn. “Of course, Sir,” he reverted back to utilising a butler’s etiquette rather than an enamoured boy’s words. “Zayn,” he then added, not sure whether to interchange the two titles or no.

Zayn gave Harry a wink and in a flash he was gone.

As soon as the door closed Harry walked over to the couch and fell onto it. His arousal was all too obvious and he grabbed a pillow and placed it over the very evident bulge in his trousers.

He knew what Zayn was doing. Each time he drew Harry further and further in. It was as if he was seducing Harry in steps and he wondered if this was what got Zayn off.

If it were, Harry feared he’d be getting off far too early on in the steps if the next steps were anything compared to the step he'd just experienced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boy, do I know how to drag out things.


	4. Strange Desire.

He wasn't going to be there for Zayn's return. He couldn't be there, because if he were there, he feared that he'd do something he'd regret.

The two had shared an intimate moment, and Harry thoroughly believed that something was going to happen in those few moments he spent stood in front of Zayn. He was left feeling embarrassed and angry at Zayn's brazen audacity to walk out on him like that.

He had revealed his first name to Zayn, a feat which he regretted the minute Zayn walked out that door. He would now refer to him mockingly as "Mr. Styles," and behind closed doors, call him Harry, just to rile him up. He was sure of it.

He remained seated on the sofa of the Suite and glanced around at the decor. It was ridiculous, this whole situation. Here was a celebrity staying in one of the most extravagant, expensive hotels in Britain, and in this hotel there just so happened to be a butler who Zayn had his eyes on since arriving in the Royal Suite.

And he played that butler.

And he hurt that butler.

 

-

 

The door opened and in stumbled Zayn, laughing in his inebriated state. One of the girls followed him into the suite, her high heels in one hand and her friend's hand in the other. "Stay quiet, shh!" Zayn spluttered as he stumbled towards his bedroom.

But as he glanced towards the sofa, he caught sight of a sleeping Harry curled up on the couch. Zayn jolted his head back to look at the girls, who could barely even walk in a straight line, let alone notice Harry on the sofa. He ushered them quickly into the bedroom and whispered into one of the girl's ears, "You girls get yourselves ready, I'll join you in a minute," she bit her lip in reply and gave Zayn a wink. As she went to turn away, Zayn landed a smack on the girl's buttocks, which gained him a squeal, over which he smirked proudly over.

He tip-toed over to Harry's sleeping form, and paused, gazing. Harry had looked so angelic when he was sleeping, much like the day previous when Zayn had disturbed him in his bedroom. He looked as painfully angelic now as he did then.

"Mr. Styles," he reached out a hand and shook Harry's shoulder, "Mr. Styles!" he continued shaking him. 

Giving up, he glanced towards his bedroom, and upon confirming that the girls were nowhere to be seen, he got onto his knees and leant forward to whisper, "Mr. Styles," this time more gently.

Harry remained motionless, obviously exhausted after a long day's work. Zayn sighed heavily and sat back on his hunkers. 

He stroked a stray curl off of Harry's face, and pushed it behind his ear, before saying one last time, "Harry, wake up."

Harry's eyes opened slowly, and squinted in the dim light of the Suite. Zayn's bleary form was what he was met with upon waking up, and an overwhelming smell of what he guessed was alcohol and 50 other people's sweat, which seemed to have just vaporized.

He stretched his long legs on the sofa and sat up slowly, with Zayn still crouched down in front of him. 

"You fell asleep," Zayn explained, "I thought I'd wake you up and let you go back to your own room."

Harry's senses were slowly coming back to him as he placed his two hands on the edge of the sofa and faced Zayn head-on. He remembered earlier's antics and held back his cringing for now. But then realised also that Zayn had returned from the premiere. 

He cursed himself for remaining in the suite for Zayn's return.

"I guessed that, Sir," Harry said, his voice raspy with sleep. He noticed that Zayn's tie, which he had tied for him, was gone and his shirt askew. His suit jacket was nowhere to be seen and his hair flopped slightly over his face. He looked terrible.

And then a voice called Zayn into the bedroom and Harry's stomach flipped. 

Zayn saw Harry's reaction upon hearing the girls in the bedroom and went to explain himself before Harry stood up abruptly.

"I'll be sure to send you a wake-up call for 9am, Sir," he said quickly as he made a bee-line for the door. Zayn jumped up from where he was kneeling, rather clumsily, and stumbled over to Harry.

"Har- Mr. Styles!" he shouted and stopped himself as Harry paused before the door, not turning around to look at Zayn.

His fists clenched, his throat tightened and his teeth bit his lip as he fought the urge to shout obscenities at Zayn.

Zayn hadn't a clue what he was going to say. No explanations were appropriate. "I'm straight," wouldn't have done, "They came onto me!" was futile and "It's only for one night," was completely out of the question. All that he had left to say was, "Could you make the call at 8 rather than 9?"

Silence.

Harry turned slowly to face his Master. Fury burned inside him. He was disgusted with Zayn's brazen insolence to the situation at hand. He couldn't even stand up for himself, and that made Harry pity Zayn. He was a coward hiding behind his wads of money.

Harry simply nodded and as the door to Zayn's bedroom opened to reveal two, not one, scantily clad women, Harry felt physically sick.

No last words were spoken, as the moment Zayn turned around to tell the girls to go back into the bedroom, Harry slipped out of the Suite.

When Zayn turned back to face Harry, he was gone.

 

-

 

Liam sensed that there was something wrong with Harry. The brunette was usually an enthusiastic morning person, but as the two of them shone cutlery downstairs in the staff quarters, Harry was quiet and spoke little.

"Could you tend to Mr. Malik, today, Liam?" Harry spoke up.

Liam put down the silver fork he was polishing and turned to face Harry.

"I have a Master of my own to be tending to, Haz, remember?" Liam awaited a reply but Harry gave not so much as an acknowledging nod, and instead went back to polishing the knives.

"Have you and Mr. Malik had a disagreement?" Liam asked, as he recalled Zayn's questions he posited to him the previous day.

Harry nodded, and breathed onto one of the knives as a stubborn mark remained embedded onto the knife. He scrubbed at it viciously before shaking his head and putting both the knife and his cloth onto the table.

"Mr. Malik asked me about you yesterday, you know," Liam began with his arms crossed, and observed Harry's reaction to this revelation.

Harry tensed and gave a nod for Liam to continue, "Asked me what kind of a man you were... Asked me if you had a girlfriend-"

"He didn't!" Harry exclaimed as Liam lifted his eyebrows, and gave Harry a questioning look.

"He did, yes. I said you'd never had one," Liam continued before Harry stood up and patted Liam on the back. "OK, Liam, you don't need to tell me anymore. I'm sure he just wanted to make sure he had a sane butler, and nothing more."

Harry's excuse for Zayn's prying was awful, Liam thought to himself.

"So... Having a girlfriend would be seen as being insane? Because he looked pretty happy about you not having a girlfriend..."

"I don't know what you're implying, but-"

"Liam, Harry! My good men, how are you?" Louis barged in through the doors, his bow tie undone and Niall trailing behind him with a sullen look on his face.

"Jesus, who died?" Niall asked, glancing from Liam to Harry.

"I don't know but whoever it was can wait until later, let's catch up, have some fun, play some cards," Louis went on and on as Niall went back out of the room to grab some cards and bottles of pop.

"I'd rather not, Louis, I have to check on Mr. Malik," Harry gave Liam a glance, as if warning him not to say anything to Louis, who would immediately impede on the situation and more than likely make matters a lot worse than they had to be.

"I never see you anymore!" Niall called after Harry who patted the Irishman on his back.

"We'll talk tonight when I'm on my break, I promise!" Harry called back to his three friends who stood looking at each other.

"Well if you two aren't going to be up for fun, I'm drinking tequila," Louis stated.

"Your shift hasn't ended yet!" Niall exclaimed at Louis, who merely shrugged at Niall's opposition.

"As Ernest Hemingway once said: "An intelligent man is sometimes forced to be drunk to spend time with his fools."" With a cross of his legs and a folding of his arms, Niall and Liam faced each other slowly.

"Did he just insult us?" Niall asked, staring at Louis

"I think he just insulted us," Liam concluded as his gaze also landed on Louis, who at this point gave an indifferent shrug of his shoulders.

 

-

 

Harry barged into the Suite and went straight for the bedroom before turning to see Zayn lying slumped on the couch with his play station controller in his hand. "They're gone," he called out to Harry without even looking up to see whether it was him or not, "I got rid of them when you stormed out here like a little bitch-"

"How dare you!" Harry blew.

"You had no right to approach me in such a.. Such a..."

"Intimate way? Sexual way? Passionate wa-"

"INAPPROPRIATE," Harry interjected, "...Way."

Zayn was smirking. He was always bloody smirking, Harry cursed to himself.

"To just leave after something was so very obviously about to happen-"

"What was about to happen, Harry?" Zayn interjected him once again, and as Harry expected, he referred to him as Harry once he was safe in the confines of the suite.

Harry stopped mid-sentence and stuttered, trying to come up with something appropriate to say, but gave up and shook his head furiously, "Stop interrupting me!"

Silence ensued, and all that could be heard was Harry's exasperated breaths after lashing out at Zayn's behaviour.

Harry rearranged his bow tie and spoke up, "You promise you sent those girls out?"

Zayn glanced up at Harry from his position lying down on the sofa, and sat up. Harry was standing still and patient as Zayn marveled at that innocent face of his. 

"I promise," he managed. He wanted to see Harry's smile, and in order to see his smile, he needed to make Harry happy.

Harry noticeably relaxed as his shoulders drooped and his eyes were no longer fixed on Zayn, but now glancing around the Suite, which was strewn with clothes, a pizza box, despite wonderful food being available in the hotel, and shoes. Harry's inner butler was itching to get the place tidied up and spotless, but he pushed his urge to the back of his mind for now.

Zayn stood up now, mere inches away from Harry, but both the pair's hands remained firmly at their sides.

"Harry..." Zayn began. His mouth opened once, and closed, as he attempted to make sense of what he wanted to say. After finally establishing what it was, Zayn reached out his right hand and slipped his fingers gently into Harry's right hand.

The two remained in their spot, and Harry gave no construable reaction to Zayn's gesture. Zayn figured he'd snatch his hand away and either slap him across the face or make another swift exit. 

"You know, if I had instigated what I wanted to instigate last night, It would have been messy. Really, very messy," Zayn began and looked down at the floor as he spoke.

"...What if I wanted it to get messy?" Harry asked suggestively, as Zayn's head glanced up at the smirking brunette.

"You're supposed to be angry with me, not flirting with me," he reminded Harry who shrugged his shoulders, "I am angry at you, you're a confusing man, Mr. Malik," Harry explained. "I haven't quite managed to understand you yet, but I'm getting there," Harry said with a smile.

"You do things to me that, no-one, not a single person has done to me before," he continued, "And it frightens me because, I feel I've grown attached, and I know that you're stay is coming to its end, and-"

"Harry, stop. Just... Stop, for a second," Zayn silenced Harry, as he released the brunette's hand and lifted both hands to rest on Harry's sides. Harry's breath hitched and at first his arms lay limp by his side, but he soon lifted them to rest on Zayn's shoulders. "Don't talk about that right now," he urged Harry in a barely audible whisper.

"I shouldn't even be doing this, Zayn. You do understand that if I'm discovered with you that my job here is over, don't you?"

"Of course. We're in the same boat. The paparazzi can easily snap a picture of us and there's the end of my career being known as the bad-boy, instead i'd be notorious as the gay, bad-boy pop-star," Zayn rolled his eyes at the stereotypes the media would label him as Harry laughed heartily at Zayn.

Harry's smile made Zayn feel loved. The way his dimples became all the more obvious and the way his eyes shone when he smiled just about made Zayn's heart skip a beat.

"You're lovely," Zayn commented as his thumb brushed against Harry's hipbone.

"And you're-" they were rudely interrupted by a banging on the door. "Being disturbed," Harry finished his sentence and was left alone as Zayn rushed to the door and peeped through the peep hole. Frowning at who it was, he turned back to Harry who glanced over at him.

"You better resume your position here at the door!" Zayn said to Harry as he remembered that his first priority was to do his job. He hurried over to the door and Zayn launched himself onto the sofa and resumed his game.

As Harry opened the door, it had seemed like nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

"What do you want?" Harry hissed at Louis who stood outside the door patiently waiting. "I'm here for Malik, Styles," Louis stated, "Urgent business, Mr. Hawthorne sent me because Liam's in the Junior Suite. So, can I come in?" Louis went to make his way forward but Harry stopped him immediately.

"No, you can't. Now go away, he's busy."

"I hear him playing Call of Duty, Harry," Louis was no fool. He sighed in resignation, "Fine, just tell him his manager is in the lobby and needs to have a meeting with him in the seminar room, alright?" 

After agreeing to tell Zayn, he said his goodbyes to Louis and shut the door. "Your manager would like to see you as soon as possible, Sir. He's in the lobby, at the moment and will meet you in the seminar room when you're ready," Harry maintained his etiquette and caught Zayn grinning at him like an idiot.

"Come to me," Zayn ushered Harry to join him on the couch as he patted the place beside him.

After seating himself on the couch, Harry sat tensely at first, but as Zayn rested his hand on Harry's knee, he soon relaxed.

"Do you want this?" Zayn asked, staring at Harry's lips as he did so.

Harry bit his lip and rested his hand atop of Zayn's. "Yes, oh god, yes, Zayn."

That was exactly what Zayn had wanted to hear.

"Meet me back here tonight-"

Harry's hand shot off of Zayn's, but he foresaw Harry's anger and grabbed his hand before he smacked him in the face. "I mean it this time, I do, honestly. I have no plans for going out tonight. Once this meeting is over, I'm coming straight back up here."

Harry sighed in disappointment, and as much as it pained him to say so, this constant battle they seemed to face was highly arousing. Every time it got closer to being instigated, Zayn would slip up. And Harry knew he did it intentionally. As he said before, Zayn appeared to get off on elongating the time until he'd finally satiate Harry's needs.

"OK?" Zayn's hand went under Harry's chin and tilted Harry's head up to face his.

Harry marveled at Zayn's eyes, his bone structure, his grizzly facial hair - his everything. He was even starting to grow fond of his tattoos, including the Zap! one.

Harry smiled back at Zayn and nodded in acquiescence, "OK."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear something worthwhile is going to happen in the next chapter. Updates mightn't be coming in as fast in the next few days. Chapter 5 might be up next Friday night, but I'm not promising anything!


	5. Caresses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There may be some misspellings so I'd be thankful if you came across any, that you'd point them out to me so I can fix them immediately. You're in for a treat with this chapter, I'm telling you.

He knew why he was sat in front of his manager, and It was only a matter of time until Richard had decided to check on Zayn's progress in the Lanesborough. He was a patronizing man, who often viewed himself above all others and was not one to fain disregard to another if they showed him any amount of disrespect. He was also a prick.

His hands were folded in front of him on the large bureau in the seminar room and he gave Zayn a tight-lipped smile, although the smile didn't seem to connect to his eyes, which remained cold and distant. "How are you keeping? Any slip ups?"

Zayn remained silent at first, his ability to not show distaste towards Richard was weak. "I've been fine. I've had no slip ups, no," he said, as he remained calm and collected.

"So, you haven't touched any marijuana or drink since you've landed here?" he questioned as he leant forward with his eyebrows lifted, as if preparing himself to give Zayn a scolding for his stepping out of line.

Zayn sighed heavily, "No. No weed, but I've been drinking-"

Richard's smile oozed condescension as he took a breath to begin one of his infamous rants, "-But not to the extent that I have been in recent times," Zayn finished his sentence, and smirked to himself at Richard's partially disappointed look. He wasn't going to have a screaming match with him, not today when Zayn was eager to return to the suite and steadfastly tend to Harry.

"Have you turned to your coping mechanism, then?" Richard talked into his sheets of paper as he shuffled them about, not looking up at Zayn. 

Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, Zayn cleared his throat, "There were two girls the other night, but nothing came of it because... I came to my senses, so no, I haven't reverted to sex as a coping mechanism, Richard."

It was an accustomed action with Zayn. Each and every time he attempted to wean himself off of the interminable consumption of alcohol, he'd simply walk out of his front door, take his woman for the picking and, to put it crudely, ultimately fuck her senseless. The end result wasn't relief, or pleasure, or satisfaction - It was rather a stemming of the craving for the source of what he used to cope with every day, alcohol. He wasn't an alcoholic, as such, but went through phases where he wouldn't remember a whole entire day as a corollary of over-consumption. The weed wasn't even difficult to give up, so he hadn't minded kicking that one out of his life.

His lifestyle wasn't for the faint-hearted. There would be four weeks of constant media attention, constant interviews, constant travelling. And one lone day which Zayn had to himself. The cycle would then repeat itself, and to be frank, Zayn was tired. Exhausted, even. He loved what he did for a living, as he loved music, but he never intended for his social life to become far more popular than his music. In reality, his songs weren't even well received. It was the person singing the song that the public were there for, the song itself was just... Immaterial.

After one wild week in San Francisco with friends, Richard had decided to send Zayn back to London on the next flight and the following day, Zayn ended up in the Lanesborough. Most celebrities would check into rehab, but no, this was Zayn Malik, not some Z-List socialite off his face from doing crack cocaine. 

"Good. That's... Good that you're not preying on any women anymore-"

"You're really pushing your fucking luck, Richard," Zayn hissed at his manager through gritted teeth. If Zayn despised Richard so much, why was it that he didn't fire him? There was a contract, which Zayn knew nothing about and had figured that that was his plan from the start. And Richard was extremely well at absolving Zayn from incessant scrutiny of his "wild" social life in the media, so, he stayed. But he wasn't liked, or thanked. He was paid and acknowledged accordingly, that was it. There was no friendship between the two of them whatsoever. 

Richard gave a forced laugh and stood up in his seat, "That's all I've come for, to check that you're not going out of your mind in this place. But at £10,000 a night, who would?" He collected his papers and halted in front of Zayn who stared straight ahead of himself, rather than at his manager.

Richard's smile faded at Zayn's ignorance and he sighed, "Your stay is going to last for another week and then you're out of here. Your bank account will suffer if you stay any longer," and with that warning, Richard was finally gone.

Zayn had avoided allowing himself to think about leaving his suite, leaving the hotel... Leaving Harry. Himself and the butler had not done anything more than holding hands, and yet Zayn felt something for Harry. Not love, of course not love, but he wanted Harry. He needed him, but feared that if he were to mark him, that he'd break him.

And that scared him to death.

 

-

 

Liam was filling in for the concierge who had called in sick, and as he ushered a multitude of wealthy individuals into the Lanesborough's lounge, he spied Harry walking briskly across the landing above, and nodding with a smile to guests, as he always did.

He took an elderly woman's coat and was about to chat to her when he felt a tap on his right shoulder. He glanced over his shoulder and spied Harry's unmistakable curls immediately, which were rather ruffled and Liam guessed he'd practically run down to the lounge, as his breathing was heavy.

"Could you make sure that no-one comes up to the Royal Suite? Not Mr. Hawthorne, not Niall, not you - not anyone! Oh god- Not Louis either, especially not Louis!" Harry was frantic, which was strange, seeing as Liam rarely saw the Mancunian quicken his pace of talking.

"I can't guarantee you anything, but.. Why?" he wasn't suspicious, just downright confused. 

"Mr. Malik," Harry simply stated and held his hand up for Liam to hold on, "Sorry, I need to..." He pulled his inhaler out of his trousers pocket and breathed in deeply as the air filled his lungs. "That's better, now, Mr. Malik has asked me to keep his room out-of-bounds for the remainder of the evening. He's extremely tired and is feeling poorly so he'd rather take his rest, in peace and quiet," Harry had recited what he was going to say in the suite, and had practiced making it sound perfectly believable. 

"...Alright," Liam's skepticism unnerved Harry, but he told himself that he was just being paranoid. He hadn't a clue what Zayn had in store for him that evening, but he would have preferred to not be interrupted during their time alone together. "But I'm not promising you anything about Louis, you know how he is. Sometimes I do have to wonder if he pin points the exact moments you don't want him around to just suddenly show up," Liam muttered as he now began making his way back across the lounge, to the cloakroom to hand up the woman's coat.

"The door will be locked and if I don't answer immediately then he'll start shouting at me to let him in. Plus, I know how his knock sounds so I'll be able to preempt who exactly is at that door," he explained as he scurried after Liam.

Liam turned around to face Harry, with a smirk on his face. Harry took a step back and frowned at Liam's expression, "What?" he asked incredulously.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd guess that Zayn wants you alone-" Harry interjected Liam immediately as he forced laughter at Liam's accusation, "That's hilarious, Liam, really," his voice was far from neutral and slightly high pitched as he jokingly nudged Liam in the ribs. "Just because he wanted to know about my love life, does not mean... Anything," Harry's hands went behind his back as he twiddled nervously with his thumbs.

Liam wasn't an idiot, he was far more smarter than Harry and a thousand times more smarter than both Niall and Louis put together, so the inevitable was that Liam already observed Zayn's fondness for Harry. And most likely, observed Harry's for Zayn, also.

Liam simply furrowed his brows and shrugged his shoulders, "Whatever, I'll inform Mr. Hawthorne not to go up the suite, and if I see the other lads I'll tell them too," Harry nodded in acknowledgement, "So, I'll see you tomorrow, then?" Liam said his goodbyes and Harry smiled to himself, and then cursed himself for grinning. But he was just so looking forward to getting to know Zayn. And with that he made his way back up to the Suite.

 

-

 

Harry allowed himself in, after guessing that Zayn was still in his meeting. But upon entering into the suite, he was met by Zayn sprawled across the couch. He jumped up the second the door opened.

Harry closed the door slowly. Turning to face the door as he locked it, he allowed his eyes to close and his mind to be at ease. He didn't want to get himself too riled up, not now, not yet. 

"I told you to wait here, didn't I?" Zayn asked, as Harry turned back around to face him. Zayn removed his checkered shirt to reveal yet another one of his white tank tops. Harry's eyes landed on the tattoos dotted across his arms and felt a sudden stifling need to trace the ink with his index finger, to kiss them and observe every intricate detail of them.

"You like them?" Harry shook himself out of his reverie and nodded, which was a surprise. Subconsciously, he recalled his dislike for tattoos, but he just found them extremely tantalising on Zayn's body and so had concluded that yes, he liked them. But only on Zayn, only ever on Zayn.

Zayn walked over to Harry now, who stood in the kitchen, his hands placed palms downwards on the marble counter top. He stood on the other side of the work top and pulled up a chair, his gaze never leaving Harry for one second. He had a tendency to pin his stare on Harry - constantly. His predation was extremely unnerving but thoroughly sensually compelling, and this trait of Zayn's was what Harry had found himself thinking about incessantly in bed at night.

"Tell me about yourself," Zayn winked, as if the two had never even met before. His elbows rested on the counter top and Harry gave a sly smirk to the star. "There isn't much to say, other than this whole entire job is my life," as soon as he finished speaking Harry scolded himself for such a dreary answer.

"Where are you from?" Zayn asked outright, keeping his tone of voice level and not giving away any hints, "Manchester, Holmes Chapel, to be precise," he answered. Zayn nodded with a smile on his face, "Well, Mr. Styles, ever since I met you I haven't been able to get your goddamn angel cherub face out of my mind," he was standing up now, and his hand dragged across the counter top as he made his way over to Harry. 

Harry forced himself to remain calm and collected and to not make any brash approaches on Zayn. He had garnered that Zayn was the dominant character in relationships and so he would allow him to implement dominance over him. Relationships? Did he just say say "relationships"? That wasn't exactly what this was, but Harry left that thought for another day as Zayn was inches away from Harry now. His fingertips walked across the marble counter and onto Harry's hand.

"I've seen the way you look at me," Zayn's voice was barely audible as he leant forward and whispered into Harry's ear. "You become increasingly nervous in my presence, I've seen the signs," he could hear the smirk in Zayn's voice as his hand pulled Harry's towards himself, so that Harry faced him head-on. 

The close proximity between himself and Zayn was devastating. He just wanted to break the barrier and allow Zayn to take him, anyway he wanted, just take him then and there. But given his inexperience and general lack of knowledge on foreplay - if that was what this was - he allowed Zayn to take control, which was exactly what the star wanted of him.

"You shuffle from side to side, look down at your feet, avoid eye contact- Which is the height of bad manners, Mr. Styles, how shameful of you," Zayn teased Harry's manners as he released Harry's hand and remained close in front of his butler.

"I can't help it," Harry's voice came out slightly higher than he'd expected and he winced in embarrassment but Zayn only smiled wider. "You just... You're so..." Harry tried to think of the word he wanted to say, but as Zayn leered in front of him, It was made pretty difficult. "Alluring, enticing and pulchritudinous," Harry finished and almost lost himself at Zayn's sharp intake of breath.

"Oh, your intelligence is so sexy," Zayn said as he bit his lip and allowed his eyes to travel up Harry's tall, lean form. "I have a right mind to see if your vocabulary would be as extensive as it is now if you were bent over that table over there," Zayn said suggestively as his head nodded over at the mahogany table. Harry's eyes slammed shut and he couldn't help himself from exclaiming "Oh god," at Zayn's brash words.

Zayn palmed the material over Harry's hipbone and remained biting his lip as he took in each and every one of Harry's reactions to his touches. He was delicate, Zayn noted. Anything remotely provocative that he said drove Harry wild, and Zayn figured he'd exploit this new-found information.

"Have you been thinking about me?" Zayn inquired, as one hand went up to brush lightly across Harry's cheek. "I've been thinking about you," he continued as his other hand dropped from Harry's side and went down to encase his wrist. Harry's pulse was fast, and his breath shallow - his eyes dilated and his cheeks only delicately blushed. Zayn marveled at Harry's state of arousal and felt heat rush to his nether regions as his gaze landed on Harry's own crotch. His trousers appeared tight and the outline of his manhood was entirely visible. "Jesus, Harry," Zayn practically whimpered, and received a whimper in response. "That's all for me?" he asked slyly as Harry nodded again, his capability at speech at that point was embarrassingly slim.

Harry had never been exposed to such an intimate situation before, he was far too familiar with his own touch in the late hours of the night when his hardness would not subside. So now, Zayn's approach was breaking him down, turning him into a whimpering puddle. He needed his needs to be satiated, needed to be touched, to touch Zayn. He just bloody wished that Zayn would get on with it already.

Harry couldn't stand it anymore and his hands shot up to his bow tie but Zayn's hands immediately batted his away, "Allow me," Zayn began undoing Harry's bow tie and couldn't help but stare at those plump rosy lips of his. His hair was wild today, as his curls enveloped his forehead and sprang out in every direction. He very badly wanted to further mess Harry's hair and to tug on it as they made love, but alas, Zayn wanted to take it slow. He wanted to enjoy every last minute of this. 

"Get me out of this uniform, please," Harry had turned to begging now, which was what Zayn had anticipated and as he tugged the bow tie off of Harry, he assisted the brunette in removing his suit jacket and waistcoat, until he was only in a white shirt and slacks.

"I could've dealt with the uniform, though, It's a bit of a kink of mine, you see," Zayn said as he kicked off his shoes and pulled his top over his head as Harry melted at the fact that this whole time, Zayn had a thing for men in suits. He made a mental note to remember that the next time... There was already going to be a next time? 

Harry observed Zayn's full array of body art now as Zayn's top was thrown on the ground haphazardly, which Harry's inner butler scolded him for. His gaze went straight to Zayn's clavicle and landed on the Friday tattoo before looking then to his slender neck and toned arms. Zayn was a specimen.

He had decided to leave his shirt on and felt no objections from Zayn and as the two stood in anticipating silence, Harry glanced at the kettle to his right. He smirked to himself and turned to face Zayn with new-found brazenness and asked, "Would you like some tea, Sir?"

Zayn's eyes glazed over and his tongue slipped out to lick his lips. But in what seemed like a minute later, Zayn gave a disgruntled noise before saying, "Get the fuck over here," and steadfastly grabbing Harry and pulling him into his arms. Harry yelped at the suddenness but immediately melted into Zayn's powerful touch.

Harry's head buried itself into the dip of Zayn's shoulder-blades and clavicle, as Zayn nuzzled Harry's neck hungrily. The taste of Harry was incredible, and Zayn had very quickly found himself addicted to his butler's distinctive taste. His hair smelt like coconut and it tickled Zayn's ear as he continued leaving marks on Harry's neck. They'd sure be fun to hide from judging guests staying at the Lanesborough.

Harry was in bits in Zayn's arms, he felt light-headed as Zayn continued to mark him with his lips, making sure that no area was left untouched, but what he really wanted was to be kissed. As Zayn bit his neck lightly, Harry let out a throaty moan and Zayn retaliated with a lengthened groan of, "Yes," said into Harry's skin.

"Kiss me," Harry breathed, already out of breath. Zayn lifted his head from Harry's neck and bit his bottom lip. He took hold of Harry's sides and pushed the brunette up against the counter top, so he was half-sitting on the marble finish. 

Zayn's right hand went into Harry's hair and he responded by closing his eyes and leaning into Zayn's touch. And as Harry's eyes closed, Zayn leant in and placed his lips delicately onto Harry's.

It was wonderful. All the build-up, the tension, It was so worth it. Harry's hands remained at his sides at first but he soon grew into the kiss and one hand leant lightly against Zayn's cheek whilst the other grabbed a hold of Zayn's sides and pulled him onto Harry.

Zayn groaned into the kiss as he came into contact with Harry's crotch and Harry's breath hitched at the sensation. Warmth was pooled in the pit of his stomach and he could now put a label on the nausea he'd been feeling. It wasn't nausea at all - It was desire. 

Zayn's hands went from Harry's hair, to his shoulder blades and traveled downwards until both landed on Harry's pert arse. Harry pulled away from the kiss and let his head fall back in enjoyment as Zayn continued to do things that no-one had ever done to him before.

"You're so beautiful, Harry, so beautiful," Zayn said breathlessly as his hands were now hovering in front of Harry's trousers. He still had his shirt on, but in one swift movement it was off and on the ground, joining Zayn's. Zayn seemed pleased to be finally met with Harry's naked torso and, feeling particularly bold, decided to take Harry's left nipple into his mouth and to suckle gently. 

Harry was startled at first but he soon took a hold of Zayn's head and threaded his fingers through his dark hair as the sensation of Zayn's tongue became far too overbearing. He was fearing the worst that this would end sooner than expected and placed his finger underneath Zayn's chin to bring him up to eye level again. He allowed his hands to rest on Zayn's sides and stroke his hipbone with his thumb.

"Could we..." Harry began but stopped himself. As he stepped out of the situation for a moment, he was met with Zayn's appearance. His hair flopped down over his eyes, and his facial hair seemed more grizzly than usual after exploring Harry's torso. The tendons in Zayn's neck were extremely prominent after the exertion and Harry had to say it to him, "You're so gorgeous, Zayn, you really are."

Zayn gave the brunette a smile in return and his arms went behind Harry's back as he placed a gentle kiss on the tip of Harry's nose. Harry's left fingers traced over Zayn's Friday tattoo and he felt Zayn tracing the dip in his back with his thumb, which sent shivers down Harry's spine. 

Their heaving breaths filled the room, and they were both far too aware of the unresolved problem of their prominent arousal.

But Zayn finally found the courage to ask, "If you'd like to take it slow, I understand-" Zayn began to say but Harry's finger landed on Zayn's lips to silence him.

He let his hand down slowly from Zayn's lips and Zayn nodded in understanding. He took a hold of Harry's hand and led him into the bedroom. Harry couldn't believe it. After working in the Suite for all this time, he was finally going to get to sleep in the King Sized bed he'd made on countless occasions.

Although, he was positive of the fact that not a lot of sleeping would be done if Zayn had anything to do with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keeping you all on your toes with the suspense, aren't I?


	6. Decisions.

Zayn left Harry in the middle of the large bedroom as he rushed over to the window and closed the curtains, as if someone would see the two of them despite them being up at least five floors from the ground. 

The second Zayn turned around to face Harry with a small smile playing on his face, the situation Harry was in hit him like a tonne of bricks. His heart rate immediately became expedited and his palms started to grow moist. Was he really ready for what was about to happen? Did he want to rush into things, or did he want Zayn to simply ravage him then and there? All of these questions swam around in Harry's mind as he stood shirtless before the delectable Zayn Malik.

"Sit on the bed," Zayn remained planted to his spot as Harry obeyed and made his way over to the large, plush bed, and sat himself down on the silken sheets, his hands going out to the side of him and gripping the fabric gently. 

Zayn's approach was slow, and the room was silent bar the familiar sounds of nighttime London. He knelt in front of Harry for a moment and held his gaze with the brunette before running his hands slowly up Harry's shins to rest on his knees. He glanced up at Harry at that moment, a questioning look on his face as his expression asked the all important question, "May my hands go further?"

Harry bit his bottom lip and reached his right hand forward to thread through Zayn's hair. The star's response was to lean in to Harry's touch, as if he were a puppy yearning to be petted by that one person they adored. "Harry," he hummed, squeezing Harry's knee to show him a signal that he enjoyed what his butler was doing to him. 

Harry leant forward then and took Zayn's face in both of his hands and kissed his lips ever so gently. He kissed his cheeks, first one, then the other, and finally kissed his forehead before leaning forward to whisper into his Master's ear, "You're trembling." An escaped groan from Zayn's mouth just about drove Harry to the brink. In the past half an hour, he kept on reaching a certain point where he truly believed he was finished, that the situation would end prematurely and he'd be left feeling ashamed and frustrated - but thankfully, that hadn't happened.

"I can't fucking help it, Harry," Zayn exclaimed with his voice under strain as Harry now nipped at his neck gently. His hands reached up onto Harry's knees again and as his glazed eyes pulled away from Harry's, he noticed a slight nod of his head, with his curls falling over his eyes slightly.

Zayn inched himself closer to Harry, who remained seated on the bed, and he opened his butler's legs and spied the slight roll of Harry's eyes and convulsion of his stomach muscles at the intensity of the pleasure he was feeling. He was far too wantonly pleasing for his own good, and he didn't even know it, Zayn concluded in his mind. Any remote touch around Harry's crotch sent the brunette wild, and Zayn felt triumph at the fact that he could make his butler convulse as a corollary of pleasure inflicted by him. 

His hands ran up the top of Harry's thighs and then cascaded back down to his knees. Harry's lip was being bitten - hard. Upon gliding up for a second time, Zayn's hands now glided up far more slowly on Harry's inner thighs, "Oh," Harry yelped as Zayn's hands very nearly tipped off of his prominent bulge. 

But Harry was still wearing his slacks, as was Zayn. Zayn had decided this was unacceptable and so stood up and towered over Harry's sitting form. He placed his hands gently on the brunette's shoulders and swung one leg over Harry's right leg, and the other over Harry's left, until he was now straddling Harry. Harry buried his face in Zayn's torso and allowed his hands to go behind the star's back and rest flat on his shoulder blades. He kissed Zayn's Arabic tattoo on his left clavicle and whimpered into his skin as Zayn ground down against his cock. Zayn gripped his shoulder's now, and as Harry's hands went to Zayn's hips, he flung his head back and wrapped his arms tightly around Harry's neck and ground down harder against Harry.

Zayn hid his face in the dip between Harry's shoulder and clavicle and gave a disgruntled moan as he felt himself shiver at his butler's touch. His hands gripped Zayn's hips tightly and guided his movements over his crotch. The feeling was like nothing either of them had ever experienced before. Despite the restriction caused by their trousers', they were both driven mad with pleasure. Harry continued to mutter sweet nothings against Zayn's skin, gripping his hips tighter and tighter, pulling his hips up and off of his groin, and then bringing them back down steadfastly. 

But as Zayn stopped the movement and sat back on Harry's lap, and as his hands went to Harry's zipper with his eyes glaring hungrily at the barrier between Harry's skin and himself, Harry was immediately struck with a feeling of anxiety. He really didn't think he was ready, this was all going far too quickly than he'd have liked. He recalled his principles and felt sick to the stomach at the fact that over Zayn, his Master, international star, bad-boy, rebel, he forgot all of his inhibitions and cast them to the wind. And as Zayn's hands unbuttoned the first button of his trousers, Harry's hand shot forward and stopped him.

Zayn stopped immediately, and pulled his hands away before leaning back, still on Harry's lap. Harry's expression, to Zayn, was an expression of disappointment and he almost seemed... Lost.

But as Harry knelt up and took Zayn into his arms, he whispered into his Master's ear, "I'm sorry, I just... I thought I was ready, really, I did-"

But Zayn hushed his butler and stroked his untamed curls, whilst landing sweet gentle kisses on his cheeks. "It wasn't even about not being able to... You know, become aroused, It's just..."

"Harry," Zayn stopped him and kissed his forehead as Harry gazed downwards in either shame, or embarrassment. "It's fine, It's more than fine. There is not a chance in hell that I'd have continued this if I'd had known that you were uncomfortable," Zayn gave him a smile of reassurance and then, to Harry's dismay, dismounted him. But as Zayn got up, he glanced down at his unresolved problem of arousal and sighed inwardly to himself. Why oh why did he have to be so morally driven?

Zayn caught sight of his dismay and laughed at his misfortune, "Some alone time will solve that," he said, with a wink for good measure.

Zayn walked forward and took hold of both of Harry's hands and pulled him up off of the bed so they were chest to chest, now. "And if it makes you feel any better, whilst you're wanking yourself off, I give you permission to picture me straddling you again, only in your mind, you can imagine me without these bloody trousers on." 

Harry glanced down at Zayn's own tight-fitted jeans and gulped before nodding, "Well, seeing as I've been given permission, don't mind if I do." Zayn responded by leaning in for a kiss but as he did so, Harry stepped away from his Master with a cheeky smile and shrug of his shoulders, "I need to keep you on your feet, Mr. Malik, if there's any hope in me seducing you in the future."

"You're seducing me in the present, so what in heaven's name will you do in the future?" Zayn's flirtatious streak was extremely attractive, but when Harry retaliated with his own flirtations, Zayn found his attempts far more entertaining.

Silence ensued, but it was a comfortable silence. Zayn went back into the kitchen to retrieve his top and came back with Harry's bow tie, waistcoat, jacket and shirt, and as Zayn handed his uniform to him, It suddenly hit him that he was engaging with one of the Lanesborough's guests. For some unknown reason, It had always been a rule to not initiate any relationships with the guests. Probably because if these relationships got anywhere, the guest of whom was fallen in love with would ask for discounts due to being involved with the hotel's, say, chef. Although, Harry doubted Hyacinth would have any aristocratic men running after her.

As he put his shirt back on and turned to leave Zayn, Harry stopped himself, "I should be here in the morning to set out your clothes and whatnot, Sir," Harry paused. Should he remain calling Zayn "Sir?" or should he refer to him as Zayn, or Mr. Malik? But his question was answered as Zayn appeared to be nodding in approval.

"I like It when you call me "Sir,"" Zayn said as he walked up to Harry and twiddled with his butler's bow tie. "It makes me feel important," he added with a grin.

"You're important without having to be referred to as "Sir,"" he ensured Zayn, but winced at the sentiment.

Zayn responded with a smile. Not any smile, a soft smile, and that smile could have easily said, "Thank you," It was that sincere and brimming with adoration.

They said their goodbyes and as the door to the Royal Suite shut at around midnight, Zayn plonked himself onto the couch and with no shame, pictured Mr. Styles' face as he relieved himself.

 

-

 

The Breakfast buffet that morning was ridiculously busy. Liam put it down to the fact that there were awards ceremonies in London that weekend and so all of the wealthy and well-off people had opted to stay in the luscious Lanesborough.

He had rung up to Harry's room earlier to call for help with serving the guests. Unlike other hotels, the Lanesborough's staff were the ones to serve the guests at a buffet. They would simply take orders from each guest, about whatever they wanted, and would then get said food items from the buffet in the kitchen, courtesy of Hyacinth. But this morning, they were short on staff and Liam was so desperate that he had even enlisted in Niall's help, and that was saying something.

The reasoning behind Liam's power over the whole situation was that he was recently made Head Butler at the Lanesborough, which gave him far more authority than he would have had previously. He had deserved it, after all. 

Louis rushed into the kitchen then whilst balancing trays in both arms with empty glasses stacked high on each. "An old bloke just asked me if I'd be able to get him whiskey on the rocks. It's 7:30am!" He exclaimed whilst dancing around the other waiters to grab various items requested by the guests, "Imagine being a billionaire and drinking at 7 in the morning, now that's the life I should be living!" He continued to say as he pushed open the kitchen door with his hip, as he was balancing a tray of beverages in both hands. Liam seemed to be the only one paying attention to his friend's musings.

Niall was scurrying around the kitchen, calling out orders to Hyacinth who was flustered off of her feet, as evinced by the beads of sweat on her wrinkled forehead.

At that moment Harry burst into the kitchen in the middle of tying his bow tie. "Liam!" he exclaimed and ran over to the now Head Butler. "I slept in, I'm so sorry!" his apologies continued as he continued to fumble with his bow tie. "I mustn't have set my alarm, Oh my god this'll never happen again, honestly!" Liam was staring at Harry's fumbling hands. He had enough and swatted his hands away, and went about tying his bow tie for him.

"This is unusual for you, Harry," Liam muttered as he focused on the tying of the bow tie. Harry simply nodded and remained silent.

Liam finished the tying and stood back, inspecting Harry's appearance. He needed to look extremely presentable. "Fix your hair," Liam ordered and Harry's hands went up to brush his curls across his forehead. Once pleased with his appearance, Liam handed Harry the tea-pot and pushed him out into the ballroom to serve tea.

Harry almost collided with Louis who gave him a frown and went about his work, ignoring the butler. He was all over the place this morning. He did sleep last night, mind you, after a rather intense session of, let's say... Self-pleasing. And throughout the whole session, Zayn was on his mind.

And upon thinking of the star, as he poured tea for a gentleman reading a newspaper, he heard a familiar voice say, "Why, thank you, Mr. Styles." The newspaper was folded and placed on the table as Zayn's smile came into Harry's view. 

Harry very nearly let the cup of tea overflow as he stared at Zayn. "You didn't lay out my clothes like you said, Mr. Styles, I was rather disappointed," Zayn said, faking disappointment.

"I-I slept in, Mr. Malik, I apologise," Harry gave a bow to Zayn and for the first time since his years at the Butler Academy, he felt like a fool for doing so. Zayn gave a wave of forgiveness and sat back to gaze at Harry. He really needed to have a discussion with him about his non-ending staring matches he had with Harry. 

But Zayn leant forward onto his elbows, edging closer to Harry, who pretended to be mopping up something that was spilled on the table to refrain from looking conspicuous, "I fucking love when you take on your butler persona, It's a recent turn on for me," Zayn winked, but Harry's expression was one of horror as he glanced about him madly.

"Relax, Harry, no-one's watching!" Zayn laughed and handed Harry an empty cup on the table. 

Little did he know that Louis was behind the two of them, handing the elderly billionaire his glass of whiskey. But after hearing their conversation, he was certain of the fact that he'd have to get himself a whiskey on the rocks upon returning to the kitchen.

 

-

 

Within the next week, It was decided that Zayn's stay would be elongated to another week, after Zayn had agreed to a photo-shoot with Rolling Stone Magazine, which paid a hefty price for the Star's presence on their cover.

Harry saw little of Zayn and remained in the Royal Suite, alone, as Zayn attended various parties and went to interviews to promote his up-and-coming album. They didn't risk texting one another or calling one another, particularly after the News of the World scandal not so long ago. Zayn didn't want anyone hacking into his phone and then outing himself and Harry.

So there was no contact. Their last intimate touches were their first intimate touches and their last kiss was their first kiss.

Harry yearned for Zayn, and Zayn for Harry. But as Harry went about doing odd jobs at the hotel, Louis became increasingly distant from him and when in the presence of Liam and Niall, he'd not entirely ignore Harry, but would give him strange, quick glances. Harry was baffled by the waiter's bizarre behaviour but just put it down to Louis being... Well, Louis.

Since Zayn's absence throughout that week, Harry was left to himself in the suite, with his own thoughts. He had come to the realisation that he truly cared for Zayn. It wasn't just an attraction he felt towards Zayn, he honestly hoped and prayed that whilst away, he'd be safe. That he wouldn't get into any trouble or revert back to his old ways of engorging himself on alcohol. 

And as Sunday night came, with himself sat at the large mahogany table in the Royal Suite, twiddling his thumbs out of pure boredom, having cleaned the Suite at least three times that day alone, he came to a decision.

He heard the door open carefully as Zayn made his way into the Suite with the key card between his teeth and two shoulder bags flung over his shoulders. Harry stood up from the table and forced himself to contain his want to throw himself onto Zayn and embrace him.

He wore shades, indoors, typically, and casual clothes.

But when he took his shades off and his gaze landed on Harry, his obvious fatigue dissipated. His face grew relaxed, and his eyes shone as he gave Harry a smile. He was happy to see Harry and he made Harry feel... Happy. Very and truly Happy.

And at that moment, Harry knew he was ready to give himself to Zayn, to give his everything to Zayn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter and can assure you that the next will be arriving swiftly. I dislike when characters in fics just immediately have intercourse, because in reality, It wouldn't necessarily be like that, which is why I'm drawing out this whole thing by making Harry hesitant about giving himself to Zayn. But I hope by doing so that none of you are annoyed or frustrated? When it arrives, it'll be good though. Oh so good.


	7. Realisations.

Zayn's eyes were slightly blood shot and his hair was all askew, more or less due to the flight he'd just gotten off of. He let his bags fall to the ground and threw his shades onto the kitchen counter, before hurrying over to Harry and practically threw himself into his butler's arms.

Harry stumbled back due to the impact of Zayn's chest upon his own, but his arms quickly wrapped around Zayn's torso as Zayn's wound around Harry's neck. "You were on my mind constantly, fucking constantly," Zayn sounded distraught, and Harry in turn felt bewilderment at the star's attachment towards him. Zayn never in a million years would have struck Harry as being someone who allowed themselves to grow extremely fond of another individual. Given his antics with a list of women, Zayn would have needed to have a heart of stone to leave each one of them in the early hours of the morning to avoid awkward situations where he was asked, "So, again tomorrow?"

Harry kissed Zayn's cheek and shut his eyes, in-taking his wondrous unique scent which had long dissipated from the Suite when Zayn left six days earlier. Harry was glad to have the scent of Zayn invade his nostrils once again.

"All of it was horrible, I couldn't concentrate during any interviews and I'm almost certain that when asked if I had a girlfriend by Letterman, I may have fought back a bit too ferociously about my being single," Zayn smirked as his forehead rested against Harry's now, and his fingertips stroked his butler's prominent jawline. 

Harry had been meaning to ask Zayn if he was his first. And by first, he meant his first male encounter. Deep in his mind, though, Harry knew that he wasn't. Given Zayn's brazenness and past antics, It was practically impossible for him to have not had relations with another man. This was Harry's first - his first everything. Kiss, touch, and crush. Of course he'd had crushes in the past but none of those lived up to how he felt about Zayn. Plus, they were all crushes on girls.

He'd been raised to believe that one day, he'd meet a nice woman, they'd date for a while and once they felt comfortable with one another, Harry's duty would be to ask his "love" to marry him. He'd accepted that this would be his future. But Harry's knowledge and understanding of women was akin to a nine year old's. He'd had a "girlfriend" in Year 8, but they had done nothing more than holding hands, and sadly Harry's first ever relationship was over within five days. And to be quite honest, he couldn't even remember the girl's name.

As he grew older, he came to realise that he was not entirely attracted to women. Before entering the Butler Academy, he'd had a small crush on a boy in his Year. He would glance fleetingly at this strapping young lad and would question why on earth he was even thinking of this boy as being "pretty." He had to admit to himself that his attraction was with both men and women. That hit him like a tonne of bricks, to say the least. He was not ashamed, never ashamed. That was, until that day in the boys' changing room.

Himself and James, the boy who he fancied, were changing after playing a game of rugby with a few other lads from their Year. The rest of the lads had gone home, and James came up behind Harry and lay his hand on his shoulder for much longer than was necessary. Harry responded to the exhibition of affection, and rested his own hand on James', before glancing over his shoulder and inching himself forward onto James. The result was devastating.

James jumped back with his hands held up in the air, and let out a roar of, "Get off me you pervert!" as Harry rushed over to him to quieten him down, James continued hurling insults at young Harry, including such ones which haunted Harry to this very day, "Pervert," "Fag," "Cocksucker," each more worse than the last. He misjudged the situation and paid dearly for it. Not only did he misjudge It, but he had no intention of coming onto James. But as James had touched his shoulder, Harry had felt tingles. When looking back on the situation, Harry brushed his reaction under the carpet and chose to ignore the reality of his sexuality. He refused to believe that he was homosexual. 

That was, until Zayn came along. 

That feeling he'd had when James placed his hand on his own shoulder had returned when Zayn had walked into the Royal Suite for that first time in his pompous fashion, only then, It was stronger, far more stronger. He had wrongly labelled his attraction as being hatred for Zayn's character, but it wasn't hatred. It was far from hatred - It was lust. Pure lust.

And as Zayn embraced Harry, and clung to his lithe frame, the butler never felt happier.

The two sat on the couch as Zayn kicked off his shoes and tilted his head back to close his eyes. He sighed deeply and was thankful for that dreaded week to be over. Harry sat upright and proper beside him, unsure of whether to inch closer to Zayn or to remain in his position. He had guessed Zayn's exhaustion and thought that maybe Zayn needed his space.

But Zayn's left eye opened, then his right and his gaze landed on Harry. He stretched out his arms towards the brunette as an invitation to join him in his relaxation, and Harry was only happy to inch closer and rest his head on Zayn's chest, as Zayn's hand rubbed Harry's back in circular movements.

"I missed you," Zayn whispered, and appeared almost hesitant to utter those simple words.

Harry glanced up at the Star and admired the view of his thick, dark eyelashes batting down on him before replying, "I missed you, too."

 

-

 

Louis was at his wit's end. Having overheard Mr. Malik's swift conversation with Harry, he was torn. On one hand, he recalled his honesty and loyalty to the well-being of the hotel, and the need to inform Liam of what was really happening between Mr. Malik and Harry, but on the other hand, Harry was one of his best mates. He couldn't tell Liam. He feared that if he did, the ultimate outcome would be Harry losing his job and being under international scrutiny as Zayn Malik's "gay lover." Zayn would suffer also. His management would be furious. After years of selling Zayn as this woman-loving God, the truth of him being a man-loving God would destroy his career. The majority of the legions of his fans would feel betrayed because now, the truth would really be that those millions of fans would now never have a chance with the lustrous Zayn Malik. Not that they ever had a chance in the first place, but the realisation would be far more devastating.

He didn't particularly mind Harry cavorting, if he were, with Zayn, what he minded was that Harry hadn't told him. He thought of himself as being the closest to Harry out of the lot of them. But if even Louis didn't know, then neither did Liam or Niall - or anyone, for that matter.

He had contemplated telling Niall, but decided against it. Given Niall's Catholic background - well, he didn't exactly practice Catholicism but Louis knew for a fact that his Grandmother would be appalled at the thought of Niall befriending a homosexual man - he realised that wasn't an option.

He was harbouring this secret for just under a week now, and as Zayn had been absent, Harry had been downstairs more often than not. It was like the old times again. Liam wasn't too busy as Head Butler, Harry had no-one to tend to in the Royal Suite and Niall- Well, Niall remained peeling potatoes and scrubbing dirty dishes like before as they all gathered around the Irishman.

But what really bothered Louis about the whole situation was Harry's change in stature around Zayn. At the Breakfast Buffet on that morning, when Harry had realised who he was serving, it was as if his whole entire mannerisms changed. He became clumsy, and jumpy. He glanced wildly around the room, terrified of the prospect of anyone spying himself and Zayn. For all other people knew, they could have just been exchanging small talk. Louis couldn't quite put his finger on It, but from what he could glean from the situation, Zayn held dominance over Harry.

He controlled Harry.

And Harry seemed happy for him to control him.

 

-

 

After a night of rest on the couch with a sleeping Harry on his chest, Zayn had awoken and felt revitalised. Harry had long left the Suite, and Zayn recalled their quiet night. Little was said, but then again, the silence said everything.

Harry's head remained on Zayn's chest for the whole night, and Zayn's hands would occasionally find their way into his mop of curls and would in due time twirl each individual wayward curl around his index finger. He concluded that he had a new-found kink for Harry's curly hair, and seeing as Harry had slipped out before Zayn had got to see him that morning, he made a mental note to observe Harry's morning curls the next time he slept in the Suite - which Zayn hoped, would be that night.

He was understanding of Harry's reasoning for taking things slow. From what he garnered, Harry was inexperienced. Upon first touching Harry's bow tie from what seemed like ages ago, there were tell-tale signs of Harry's inexperience. He'd crumbled under Zayn's fingertips over simple words. Not too simple though, as Zayn adored muttering vulgarity into Harry's ears and slipping them into normal conversation - and he incessantly caught Harry off guard. Each time, he cracked. Each time, he tipped a little more over the edge. Each time, his eyes grew darker and his pupils dilated further. And from Zayn's calculations, after his week of absence and lack of any means of contact with his butler, Harry's need to be touched and engulfed would be satiated within a short time period.

He'd beg Zayn to please him before the week was out.

But he wanted to know more about Harry, to learn about his likes and dislikes, his pet peeves, his views on issues like global warming. Basically, he wanted to have knowledge of Harry's entire person. He wasn't only a pretty face, after all. This young butler was intelligent and kind, loving and grateful - but underneath his demeanor, Zayn sensed unease. He would question himself on his ways of going about things, Zayn had noticed. Before he left, Harry had been cleaning the kitchen and he watched on as Harry found difficulty in rearranging the glasses in the cupboard. He appeared to have forgotten their normal places and seemed to grow increasingly unsettled by this. Zayn thought It was a form of OCD and stood aside as Harry grudgingly put the glasses back in the cupboard in a different arrangement than usual.

But as a butler, Harry may have just been trained to be exact with every last thing he does - Everything needed to be perfect, and everything needed to meet the highest standards.

He found quirks like these delightful. Zayn was far too accustomed with socialising with block-headed morons who's only real talent in life was to light a blunt and shot-gun a can of beer. So, when he came across Harry, he came across difference. Not only difference, but he came across freedom.

Since that slip up on the night of his return from the premiere with the two women, Zayn hadn't associated with any of London's renowned wild socialites. He preferred to be at the Suite. He had realised that he didn't need two women hanging off his arm to be happy and content. As long as his butler was by him, Zayn figured he'd be alright.

Harry could do good things to Zayn. He could maybe even cure him of his inner wild-child which won over "normal Zayn," more often than not.

And Zayn could help Harry. But in order to help Harry, he'd need to dig deeper into his butler's life, into his mind. His quietness wasn't due to shyness or anxiety, he knew that. It was a corollary of something else.

And so, that night, Zayn had decided to arrange a quiet night with Harry. That night, he'd tell him his all and would then hopefully receive Harry's all. 

 

-

 

Zayn emerged from the bathroom as steam filtered out through the bathroom and into the bedroom. Upon hearing a knock on the door, he scrubbed his hair dry with a towel and covered his modesty by wrapping a towel around his bottom half. He guessed that It would be Harry and so opened the door quickly, and exclaimed, "Har-"

Mr. Hawthorne stood with his hands behind his back and a frown forming on his face as Harry stifled laughter from behind his manager. Zayn composed himself, cleared his throat and covered himself by saying, "-Hawthorne. Hawthorne!" he repeated as he gave Mr. Hawthorne an awkward pat on his shoulder. But the Lanesborough's manager's face remained stoic and serious, which led Zayn to correct himself, "Good evening, Mr. Hawthorne." All the while Harry stood behind his manager and stared down at the ground, for fear that he'd simply explode into fits of laughter at his Master.

"Mr. Malik," he nodded in acknowledgement and pushed past Zayn into the Suite. "I thought I'd come up here to inspect the Suite," he said as he wiped a finger off of the dresser in the hallway and seemed content with what he didn't find - dirt. After a further inspection of the rooms within the hotel suite, he returned to Zayn who hadn't even attempted to speak to Harry for fear of coming out with something that wouldn't be appropriate in Mr. Hawthorne's presence. 

But, he had caught Harry's furtive glances and smirks, and cursed the brunette for his boldness.

"The Master Bedroom could do with some cleaning, Mr. Malik, your belongings are strewn all over the floor, which I'm sure you're aware of," the manager said to Zayn who acknowledged his advice. "Seeing as you'll be leaving within the next week, I would advise you to begin cleaning soon enough. You've brought a multitude of belongings here and I won't allow you to remain here if you haven't got the majority of them packed," Mr. Hawthorne warned the young Star who continued nodding. 

"I'm sure Mr. Styles can assist you with that," he smiled as Zayn smiled in return and gave Harry a wink behind the manager's back. "Your work here is satisfactory, Styles, and I'm sure that once word gets out that Mr. Malik has stayed here, they'll be far more guests opting to stay in the Royal Suite," Harry wasn't entirely sure how to feel about that. One one hand he was happy for the fact that his days wouldn't be futile if there weren't any guests in the Suite, but on the other hand... He refused to accept Zayn's absence that would soon arrive.

As Mr. Hawthorne left the two to their own devices, Zayn shut the door behind him and breathed a sigh of relief. "Mr. Hawthorne's seen me in the nip," Zayn snickered like a small schoolboy and earned a frown of disapproval from Harry, who eventually softened and laughed at Zayn's childishness.

"You had a towel on, It was fine," Harry assured him as he sat himself down on one of the chairs at the mahogany table. "Although, It would've been far more entertaining had you answered that door in the complete nude," Harry smirked as he pictured his manager's reaction to that particular scenario. 

"You would've liked that, wouldn't you?" Zayn asked as his voice dropped seductively and he slid himself into the seat beside Harry at the table.

Harry inched forward to Zayn and allowed his index finger to stroke across Zayn's cheek, "God, I would," he agreed as he felt Zayn's bristly facial hair upon stroking his cheek. 

Zayn's eyes searched Harry's face, and decided to begin launching questions at his butler, "When did you realise you were gay, Harry?" 

Harry's facial expression dramatically changed. His hand dropped from Zayn's cheek instantaneously and he sat back against his chair. He remained quiet for a moment, collecting his thoughts, and finally responded with a, "What?"

Zayn sighed and leant his elbows on the table to reach out and take Harry's hands into his, "I want to know more about you, Harry. We know a fair bit about one another as It is, but... It's not enough," he explained briefly his reasoning for choosing such an invading question.

Harry didn't seem to register why exactly Zayn was asking him this question but as he took his hands away from Zayn's and began twiddling his thumbs, Zayn realised that perhaps Harry wasn't ready to discuss this.

"I'm sorry, Harry, I understand if you don't want to talk about this-"

"No," Harry interjected quickly, and took a deep breath before continuing, "I never labelled myself as being homosexual until I was in Year 8, there was this boy I had a thing for... I think, I don't know. In a fleeting moment I made an approach on him and he..." Harry paused and stared ahead of himself, avoiding Zayn's gaze, "...Rejected me and insulted me. I didn't even know why I did It. I refused to believe that my attraction was towards men and not women - I'm not against homosexuality in the slightest but it's just... My future was one filled with children and a wife, so the prospect of having neither of these was baffling to me, absolutely baffling," Harry stopped then and finally managed to meet Zayn's eyes.

Zayn was nodding in understanding. "And then when you came along that exact feeling I felt for James returned, only..."

"Only?" Zayn intervened. Harry gave Zayn a small smile, "Only stronger. More prominent. It was then that I realised the extent of my attraction towards men. Towards you."

Zayn looked away from Harry with a grin, and when he looked back at Harry, he was taken aback by the gentle flush forming across Zayn's cheeks. He was flattered that he could make Zayn Malik blush.

"Well," Zayn began as he shifted in his seat, "If I fall in love with somebody then I fall in love with somebody. If they're a male or female, It doesn't matter - their gender shouldn't even come into the equation," Zayn shared his outlook with Harry and the brunette's face softened to hear Zayn mention love. Love was such an odd concept, Harry had always thought.

"And when I was being an asshole to you on my first day here, I'm pretty sure that was me attempting to play hard to get, but I'm not sure," Zayn laughed at his actions only three weeks ago.

"Yeah, you were pretty harsh," Harry agreed with a laugh. 

The night continued with Zayn telling Harry about his personal life and Zayn telling Harry about his. Laughter rang through the halls of the Royal Suite as embarrassing moments were shared and mutterings of apologies and condolences were said in reply to saddening anecdotes. And as the clock struck 1am, and the two were standing on the balcony overlooking the hotel's courtyard as Zayn blew smoke from his Marlboro cigarette into the night air, Harry felt ready to tell Zayn.

"When I said I wasn't ready that night..." Harry began, and watched as the puffs of smoke floated through the night sky. "I've had time to think about my decision since you've been gone," at that point his hand reached down and he threaded his fingers through Zayn's.

Zayn gave him a reassuring squeeze in response, and predicted what It was that Harry had wanted to say before even saying it. "But I'm ready now, really, I am. If there's anyone that would make me feel safe and loved... It's you, Zayn," Harry's sincerity pulled on Zayn's heart strings whilst simultaneously arousing him.

It was really going to happen tonight. Zayn would make Harry his, and his only.

He took hold of Harry's hand and kissed his knuckles. "Thank you," was all Zayn said before leading Harry back into the confines of the Suite.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This wasn't supposed to be as long as It turned out to be. The "love scene" was supposed to be included in this chapter but I seemed to have been sidetracked. An update will arrive tomorrow, though, and will solely focus on Zayn and Harry consummating their relationship. I hope this chapter was to your liking!


	8. His Body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have the rating as Explicit for a reason...

Harry was pushed into the bedroom as Zayn retreated back towards the door, much to Harry’s dismay. Harry remained still with his back facing the door. His fingertips stretched out by his sides and relaxed, and his heart felt like It was in his throat. 

The light was dimmed and Harry froze. The very air in the room seemed halcyon. 

He heard the imperceptible movement of Zayn’s clothing as he made his way towards Harry.

Hands reached out and took a hold of his hips, and gripped whilst simultaneously grabbing a hunk of Harry’s suit jacket. Using the material as leverage, Zayn pulled his butler back against him so that the two were chest to back. 

Harry gave an experimental tilt of his hips back against Zayn’s crotch, which gained him a low growl against the nape of his neck. “Do that again,” the voice that was ridden with arousal urged.

Harry did so, only this time he reached his hand back behind and grabbed a hold of the back of Zayn’s head, and pulled his head down onto his shoulder. Zayn understood what it was that Harry wanted him to do and so began nuzzling his neck lightly.

Harry continued the occasional movement of his hips, until Zayn’s hands began pulling Harry back against his groin. He pulled with such force, such power, and guided Harry with such a hunger that drove Harry wild.

His head was thrown back and curls tickled the side of Zayn’s face as he continued the movement.

“Lie down on the bed,” Zayn ordered Harry as he dug his nails into Harry’s hip, to which Harry bit his lip in response.

Harry turned himself around now and inched his lips close to Zayn’s, “Where are your manners, Mr. Malik?” he asked, with a smirk on his face which exhibited those dimples Zayn so badly wanted to kiss away. 

Zayn paused and inched forward to close the proximity between them, but Harry pulled away with mocked shock on his face. “Manners?” he asked again as he slowly began to undo his bow tie in front of Zayn.

Zayn’s lips curled into a wicked smirk and he seemingly approved of Harry’s playful side. “You know, for a boy who hasn’t seen much action, you are such a tease,” Zayn half snickered and stepped forward towards Harry who stood back again.

“I’m not teasing. I’m waiting for you to show some manners, Mr. Malik-“

“My name’s Zayn-“ Zayn began but as Harry began shaking his head in disapproval, he inched forward to Zayn and whispered, “I’m going to call you whatever the hell I want to call you tonight,” his hand reached forward and landed on Zayn’s crotch, which surprised the young star, to say the least.

“You love it when I call you Mr. Malik,” he smiled as his hand squeezed the length of Zayn’s shaft that could be felt underneath the material. Zayn prevented himself from groaning, and remained biting down on his lip, harder and harder. He didn’t want to give Harry the satisfaction of seeing him succumb to pleasure so early on.

He needed to out-last Harry in order to observe how exactly his butler reacted to his Master pleasing him after waiting for so long. He predicted a sheer and utter breakdown upon Harry's release.

Zayn lifted his shirt over his head as Harry carefully removed his suit and even folded his clothing, whereas Zayn chucked his shirt over to the side. They stood in front of each other in just their underwear. Zayn in dark green and Harry in the typical white brief.

Harry's gaze landed on Zayn's trousers and shirt thrown carelessly to the side, and frowned. "Excuse me, Sir, could you fold your clothes please?" Harry asked in a mocking tone. Zayn remained still. His fingers flexed by his sides and he stared at Harry. Just stared.

"Sir-" Harry began to say again but before he knew it, Zayn collided with him and clutched his face whilst planting numerous kisses on his butler's serene face. "Zayn," Harry yelped as Zayn's body forced him back towards the bed until the back of his knees came in connection with the end of the bed and he fell back onto it. 

Zayn was smiling now as he stood over the brunette, mainly because Harry had already slipped up with his role play of a butler as he had said Zayn's name. Harry was not going to lead the night. Zayn was. He needed to lead the night, needed to be the one holding the reins, needed to be the one grounding down against Harry as his hands were pinned above his head.

Zayn snapped himself out of it and lowered himself onto Harry and kissed first his left clavicle, then his right. He kissed down along his butler's breastbone and bathed in the glorious noises slipping from Harry's lips. His right index finger stroked down along Harry's barely-there happy trail, which garnered a whimper from Harry. It was the closest contact he'd come in with Harry's groin, skin-to-skin, that is. 

He crawled back up Harry's body and sat himself on his crotch, and marveled at the hardness he felt against his own. "You've got something for me, It would seem," Zayn jeered, but didn't expect a reply from Harry who had long entered into an unknown land as a corollary of the sensations he was feeling.

It would seem that this was a recurring theme - Zayn straddling Harry. Harry seemed to like it, really like it, actually. 

His hands were now on Zayn's sides and gripping hard against the star's prominent hipbones. Zayn's full array of tattoos were exhibited and Harry had attempted to observe each and every one, that was, until Zayn had interrupted him by inflicting pleasure upon him.

His hair flopped down onto his forehead as he leant forward and took Harry's lips onto his. The kiss was thick with passion and heat. Zayn bit the bottom of Harry's lip at least twice and tugged hard on it, until Harry pushed Zayn away by placing his hand flat onto his chest.

"Just do it," Harry pleaded as he thrust up against Zayn and shook slightly at the sensation which surged straight to his cock.

"I can't handle this anymore, I just- I can't," Harry was very and truly pleading and Zayn felt triumph rise within him. He enjoyed pushing people towards the edge, It was one of his kinks. The more they wanted it, the more engaged they'd be in the whole situation. And boy, was Harry engaged in the situation.

"Patience is a virtue, Mr. Styles," Zayn assured Harry who shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut, refusing to listen to the smoothness of Zayn's voice. It was all becoming far too much.

Zayn took Harry's left nipple in between his lips as his tongue darted out and licked the nub slowly, to which Harry responded by taking a hold of Zayn's hair and pulling. Hard.

As Harry's stomach was sucked inwards when he stretched back in bliss, Zayn's mouth went to the bump of his ribs underneath his sallow, sweet skin and he proceeded to kiss each bump gently, whilst simultaneously glancing up at Harry, who was now looking at Zayn with his eyes blown-wide. 

His tongue traced up Harry's sternum and came into contact with the small hollow between the butler's clavicles. His hair tickled Harry's chin and Harry breathed in the delightful scent of his raven-coloured hair.

He brought his head up to kiss along Harry's jawline until planting a final kiss on the butler's chin before retreating and bringing himself down towards the brunette's crotch. His butler's cock was straining through his white briefs and Zayn placed a hand over his bulge and palmed his hardened heat, which elicited a raspy groan from Harry.

"Yes," Zayn whispered as his fingertips gripped the waistband of Harry's briefs, and pulled them down slowly to reveal Harry's length in full. He nestled himself in between his buler's legs and allowed both of his hands to travel up the top of Harry's thighs.

Harry was incoherent. He refused to glance down for fear that he'd become overwhelmed. But Zayn so very badly wanted him to look down at his work.

"Look at me," Zayn ordered as his hands dug into Harry's thighs to urge him to look. "I want you to see what I'm doing to you, Harry," he said again as Harry shook his head quickly and his hand shot up to cover his face to attempt to hide himself from Zayn's intimidating approach on him.

"Harry," Zayn repeated in his authoritative voice. His nails dug into Harry's thigh harder, until Harry eventually hoisted himself up onto his elbows to behold the wonderful sight before him. 

"Oh God," Harry whimpered as Zayn nodded in satisfaction at Harry's observing of what was about to ensue.

Zayn's right hand at that moment wrapped itself firmly around his butler's shaft, which elicited a delectable growl from Harry, who faltered on his elbows ever-so-slightly. His head went forward so his chin met his chest and his eyes were locked on Zayn's as his breathing became erratic.

This wasn't exactly going to last long.

Zayn's hand moved slowly, cascading up Harry's length and then gently moving down. The movements were painfully slow, and as Zayn pulled Harry into a sitting position, Zayn began whispering in the brunette's ear.

"You're mine," Zayn growled as Harry rested his head on his shoulder and bit down on the star's skin to muffle a moan as Zayn squeezed the head of his cock.

Harry was nodding frantically into Zayn's shoulder as his hands reached around Zayn and held him close to his body. Zayn's hand quickened as he placed soft kisses along Harry's shoulders and as he extracted another moan from Harry, he himself groaned and whispered into his butler's ear, "Say my name when you come."

"O-oh," Harry's voice was shaky and his shoulders becoming tense. His body began to involuntarily convulse as he felt the onslaught of his climax. He was overcome with the pleasure brewing in the pit of his stomach. Never before had such a feeling washed over him. To have another's hand wrapped around his manhood was unbearable to look at for fear of coming completely and utterly undone in an instant, but he looked anyways. The fact that it was Zayn's hand and Zayn's eyes penetrating him made it all the more unbearable.

But then Harry considered Zayn's state of arousal, and without a second thought he reached forward and dug his hands in to Zayn's boxers to take a hold of his own cock. This was entirely unexpected and in response to his butler's unforeseen touch, Zayn's mouth opened wide and his hand on Harry's shaft faltered for a moment as he let out a strained and lengthened, "Fuck."

Harry's body was beginning to lock as his eyes squeezed shut for a moment once Zayn's hand sped up, and his hand on Zayn's cock met the rhythm which Zayn was at. But Harry felt the familiar sensation that came when he approached his climax. His stomach muscles became taut and he began to shiver, only ever-so-slightly, and in order to warn Zayn, he managed to whimper, "I'm g-going to," but he stopped himself as he reached his peak.

Zayn marveled in Harry's breakdown. He was left completely vulnerable as one hand of his gripped Zayn's neck tightly, partially to keep himself from falling onto his neck and partially to use as a medium to release all of his pent up lust onto as he gripped ever tighter. And as Zayn had asked of him earlier, his eyes shot open and locked on Zayn's which were blown wide and in one guttural groan, he said, "Z-Zayn."

That was what done it for Zayn. Harry's hand had long slowed on his cock but even the smallest movement allowed for Zayn to release himself as he himself then called out Harry's name in pure bliss. Harry was whimpering now as he rode out his orgasm and his face contorted from pleasure as he heard his name slip involuntarily from Zayn's lips.

Zayn's head fell forward onto Harry's chest and he gave one last squeeze of Harry's cock before placing both of his hands on Harry's arms. His forehead leant on his chest and Harry was still coming down from his high as he gave a jerk to which another groan was drawn out.

"Fucking hell," Zayn shut his eyes and clung to Harry as he felt the effect he had on Harry wash over him as his muscles gave way to the pressure pent up before his release. "You're so hot when you come," Zayn breathlessly laughed as Harry began to relax now. 

"That's never happened b-before," Harry explained as he felt a shiver creep up through his body once again, "Oh God," he groaned as his hand rested on the small of Zayn's back. "You broke me down."

Zayn brushed the sweat-ridden curls from Harry's forehead and felt elated at his ability to reduce Harry to a quibbling being. "But in a good way," Zayn assured his butler with a wink, to which Harry gave a soft smile and a gentle kiss on Zayn's lips.

The two remained in the same position, with Zayn straddling Harry, and Harry rested his head on Zayn's shoulder and allowed his eyes to close. But as their sweat became cool, the chill in the air became aggravating.

Zayn was rubbing Harry's back in small circles and as a thought occurred to himself, he said to Harry brazenly, "You know, that tea would be nice right about now."

Zayn garnered a tap on the shoulder for that one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed this little chapter.


	9. The Downfall.

Niall's fingers were raw from the chemical wash used to wash the dishes. He was exhausted and as he glanced up from his station at the large industrial sink, waiters rushed passed him and Liam was shouting instructions to all of the hurrying workers. Hyacinth was in the room leading off of the kitchen preparing a large luxurious cake for an event being held in the hotel that night and Niall heard her demanding shouts at her new Sous-Chef. 

As he scrubbed a large saucepan and forced himself to give no thought to what may have been in the saucepan before it came into his hands, the new Sous-Chef flurried to Niall's station and dropped off even more dirty dishes.

He released a breath, presumably of relief after having escaped the wrath of Hyacinth. Niall continued scrubbing the dishes, yet the new Sous-Chef remained by his side. Finally he cleared his throat and broke the awkward silence, "I'm the new Sous-Chef, if you're wondering," he loosely explained and Niall rolled his eyes inwardly at this new chef's attempt at making friends at the Lanesborough. 

Niall gave the man a small smile and continued the unpleasant job of trying to get whatever food was clinging to the pan off of it. He seemed to be around Niall's age himself, so Niall assumed he'd more than likely attended some prestigious culinary school in order to land himself a job as Sous-Chef in the Lanesborough. As he reached for a dishcloth and dried his hands, he decided to relieve the poor man of his futile attempts to befriend Niall, "I'm Niall, dishwasher and vegetable peeler," Niall reached out and shook his hand.

The Sous-Chef's smile was embarrassingly wide. Hopefully he hadn't presumed that Niall's exhibition of courtesy was an invitation to cling to him at any given opportunity. "Nice to meet you, Niall," he beamed and pulled away from the Irishman. "My name's James," he added with a smile.

Niall decided to show him around the hotel, and upon Liam's instructions even changed into appropriate attire for the excursion. 

After showing James the lobby area and introducing him to the staff working at reception, the Sous-Chef inquired if it were possible for him to be shown to the Suites. Niall was hesitant to show him the Suites, and was convinced of the fact that if Liam were to find out he was up snooping around the Suites, he'd never hear the end of it.

But he gave in as he remembered that Harry would be tending to Mr. Malik in the Royal Suite at this hour of the morning. Harry would have no problem with showing James around the Suite, Niall knew.

-

The day after the night before was pristine. Zayn was the first to awake, and he was thoroughly pleased to discover a sleeping butler nestled into his side. Harry's head rested on Zayn's chest and his right hand lay on Zayn's heart. His breathing was barely perceptible and as Zayn peered down at his face, he grinned at the sleeping angelic face before his eyes. Harry's curls were feral-like, springing out in every direction, and as he couldn't resist, Zayn's hand reached up and threaded through the thick curls.

Harry responded with a sleepy "Mmm," at the feel of Zayn's fingers massaging his scalp, "That's nice," he muttered into Zayn's chest as the Star continued massaging Harry's scalp.

"Did you sleep well?" asked Zayn, to which Harry responded with a kiss under Zayn's clavicle. "Better than I've ever slept before."

Harry glanced at the clock and was startled at the time, but before he even had the chance to shoot out of bed and grab his suit, Zayn's pulled Harry on top of him and kissed the brunette's nose softly. "I have to get to work," Harry said in resignation as Zayn faked a pout.

"Your work is here in the Suite with me, and you're here, only, you're not 'on-call' at the moment. Relax, Harry," Zayn pulled his head down to rest on his shoulder and as Harry settled back into his lover's side, the knock on the door stopped his heart. 

Harry was out of bed as fast as the wind and grabbing various clothing items from the ground. Zayn gave an aggravated sigh and merely observed Harry's panic. "Just don't answer it!"

He was met with a sarcastic laugh and a furious shake of curls as Harry buttoned up his shirt and fixed his bow tie. "It's Mr. Hawthorne, I'm sure that was his knock," he said as he pulled on his slacks and plonked himself onto the floor to put on his socks.

"I couldn't give a fu-" Zayn began but stopped as he caught Harry's glare. His butler's attempts at teaching Zayn some etiquette were slowly but surely paying off.

"I couldn't care less!" he corrected himself as he pulled back the covers and stretched. 

"I need to care or else I could face losing my job - now get dressed!" Harry urged Zayn as he balled a top of Zayn's and threw it at his head. Zayn groaned and began complaining about how it was far too early and about how Mr. Hawthorne can stick it where the sun don't shine. But as Harry stood in front of Zayn looking no more than pristine, Zayn glanced up at his butler and smirked.

"You so don't want me to get dressed," he said with a wink as he reached out and took a hold of Harry's hips.

He dragged Harry towards him and rested his head on Harry's stomach and shut his eyes. "And I want you to get undressed so stuff Mr. Hawthorne!" Zayn muttered into the buttons of Harry's shirt.

Of course Harry wanted to lay in bed with Zayn from morning 'til noon, but the chance couldn't be taken, not now, not ever. Perhaps when Harry was given leave upon Zayn's departure, he could arrange an elopement to some dainty cottage in the British countryside where they'd bathe in each other's beauty. Unfortunately, for now, all Harry was going to be bathing in was Mr. Hawthorne's fury if he didn't answer the door in the next five seconds.

And of course, the door banged again, much more harder than before.

"Harry!" came a shout, of which Harry gathered was Niall's as he recalled his strongly pronounced Rs. 

Harry pulled away from Zayn and dragged him off of the bed, "It's Niall, get dressed." He hurried out into the living area of the Suite and ran around picking up Zayn's belongings off of the ground, attempting to make the Suite look like it's a Suite worth spending £10,000 a night on and not £100.

"Just a moment," Harry shouted to Niall as he kicked Zayn's video-games underneath the sofa for the time being.

Zayn eventually emerged from the bedroom with his hair askew and a lit cigarette hanging out of the side of his mouth. He wore no top and pyjama bottoms. As Harry gave Zayn a disapproving shake of his head, the Star shrugged innocently and went to answer the door.

"Hello Niall," Zayn beamed far too enthusiastically at the dishwasher, "Harry's here." Zayn stepped aside to allow Harry to pass through.

Niall stood in silence with a frown of confusion on his face over the fact that Zayn looked like he'd just been pushed through a bush. And as Harry came into view, rearranging his waistcoat and posture in general, Niall stood aside to allow James to observe what was going on.

But what was about to happen was not foreseen by any of the four young men.

Harry glanced up from fixing himself and was immediately frozen on the spot as his gaze landed on Niall's companion. "James," he blurted out and took a step backwards as the very words that hurt him in the past rung through his head, "Pervert," "Fag," "Cocksucker."

James stared at Harry. He glanced from him to Zayn and his mind processed Zayn's appearance. Tousled hair, unshaven face, shirtless, apparently wearing only pyjama bottoms. His calculations were all adding up to one thing and one thing only - Harry wasn't only Zayn's butler.

"Harry," he eventually replied with a voice as cold as ice. Niall stood awkwardly to the side and both he and Zayn were giving each other questioning looks. "When was the last time I saw you?" he asked slyly, knowing full well where they both last saw one another.

Harry felt small. Minuscule. Never, not even in his nightmares, did he ever imagine coming across James again. Let alone in his workplace, let alone in the Lanesborough, of all hotels. 

Harry wavered at the question he asked, "Boys locker rooms," he answered into himself as he stared down at the ground, refusing to look at the vile face glaring at him as if he were some abhorrent beast. 

James nodded slowly and as a nefarious grin slowly spread across his face, he turned to Zayn who at this point had noticed the extreme change in Harry's composure and was beginning to realise that this man was not a friend, but a foe.

"Mr. Malik, is it?" he asked, despite already knowing the answer.

Zayn removed his cigarette from his mouth and held it by his side. He nodded to the Sous-Chef and glanced fleetingly at Harry who's complexion had turned pallid. 

James gave no heed to Niall and stepped into the Suite, brushing past Zayn and Harry. Harry shivered at the brush of his arm against his. Zayn followed the Sous-Chef into the Suite and felt unease as James browsed through the Suite.

Niall asked Harry what was wrong but the butler simply shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. He had to be living a nightmare, this couldn't be reality.

"Do you mind getting out of my Suite, mate?" Zayn asked the indignant chef who now pushed his way into Zayn's bedroom. 

James ignored the star and as he turned slowly to face Zayn, he held his gaze with the Lanesborough's guest.

"I know your secret," was all he said before pushing past Zayn and going into the living room.

Niall stood with Harry by his side who remained stock still and as Zayn grabbed a shirt and tugged it on, he tightened his fist and prepared himself for what was to come. "Either you're a paparazzi or a fucking stalker, either or, you better fucking get out before I call the police," Zayn warned James who tilted his head, aiming to intimidate Zayn.

But it was Harry who spoke up, albeit quietly, "Don't, Zayn."

Various things ran through Niall's head. Either James was posing as a Sous-Chef or he was indeed a member of the Media, he didn't know. But what baffled him the most was Harry's ignorance towards referring to Zayn as "Sir," or "Mr. Malik," instead he opted for the star's true name, which was odd. He wasn't a butler, not at all, but from what he knew, a butler should never call their Master by their first name.

James was approaching Harry now with a look verging on insanity planted on his face. He stood inches away from the curly-haired man. But Harry didn't feel like a man, he felt like that young boy who had encountered James and who had ultimately been crushed by James.

Zayn stood nearby, hesitant to throw any punches or attack for fear that this man may have a weapon. After all, Zayn didn't have a clue who he was. But judging from Harry, he was wholly unwelcome. 

But as James asked Harry in a voice laced with condescension, "Did you do to Zayn what you tried to do to me?" Zayn felt his knees go weak and his tongue go dry. His eyes wildly glanced at Niall, who remained still with a frown firmly on his face, probably attempting to piece together what was happening. 

Harry bit the inside of his cheek and drew blood, but he gave no heed to the bitter, copper taste of the red fluid in his mouth. He felt a lump the size of a rock form in his throat and his eyes had begun to burn. He'd been discovered - They'd been discovered.

James then turned to Niall and gave the dishwasher a small smile. "Well, Niall, I see your confusion and will therefore explain," he went on as he turned away from Harry and went over to Niall. 

Harry lifted his head slowly and his gaze landed on Zayn who was staring at Harry with wide, scared eyes. The both of them had just experienced hell firsthand.

James' hand rested on Niall's shoulder, but as he went to speak, Harry exclaimed, "Please," but James' respone was to spit in the butler's face.

This set Zayn off. He felt his blood boil and as Harry wiped saliva from his brow, Zayn tightened his fist and ran up to the Sous-Chef, but Harry grabbed Zayn by the waist and dragged him off to the side, into the kitchen, where he begged Zayn not to do anything, to just leave it, and that It was too late now. 

Harry's hands pawed at Zayn's face, at his chest, begging him to calm down but Zayn was lost now. He gave James daggers as Harry continued his attempts to relax his Master - His lover, even. 

Niall had seen. He'd seen Harry's intimate touches with Zayn, and slowly but surely he had begun to piece together the pieces. He was staring at Harry. Not in disgust or abhorrence, just staring. Almost in disbelief.

And as James told Niall to face him, he confirmed what the Irishman had conjectured in his mind, "Harry and Mr. Malik here are sweet, sweet lovers."

Niall pulled away from James and gave him a shove, before glancing between both Zayn and Harry who were now numb.

"Get out of here," Niall shouted at James, "Who do you think you even are?" he said again as he gave the Sous-Chef another shove. "You had no right to tell me that, no right!" he went on as James simply shrugged.

"I had every right," James insisted, and as he began unbuttoning his white top, he said to Niall, "You can inform Mr. Hawthorne that I've resigned." He threw his top onto the ground and turned to face Zayn and Harry. He pulled his iPhone out of his back pocket and quickly snapped a picture of Zayn and Harry, with Zayn's arm swung around Harry's drooping shoulders.

"I won't need this job after I've gone to the papers with this story. I'll be paid thousands," he snickered as he bid adieu to Niall, Zayn and Harry. 

As Harry fell to his knees on the floor and refused to give James the satisfaction of his tears, Zayn glanced up at Niall who seemed lost.

"I'm ruined," Zayn whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh no.


	10. Make the Most of the Sadness.

As Zayn remained silent on the couch and Harry sat idle at the mahogany table, Niall stood in front of the floor-length window. 

It felt like a word was not spoken for the better part of an hour since James’ imminent departure.

Harry was hesitant to cast his gaze towards Niall. He was positive of the fact that Niall was shocked at what he had just witnessed. What he didn't know was if Niall’s shock was in disgust or anger, or neither. 

Zayn stood up and walked over towards Niall. The Irishman caught Zayn moving towards him out of the corner of his eye, but he remained still. The star stood beside him and paused.

Harry grimaced as he caught sight of Zayn’s hand reaching up to pat Niall’s shoulder. Under his hand, Zayn felt tension in Niall’s shoulder, but once he turned to face Zayn, that tension dissipated.

Zayn leant forward to mutter to Niall, “I’ll take care of him,” to which Niall lifted an eyebrow and proceeded to nod in acknowledgment. Harry felt relief wash over him as Niall stepped forward and embraced Zayn.

He patted the star’s back and muttered, “If you don’t, you've got me to deal with,” smiling. Zayn laughed lightly in response and turned to face Harry who sat looking rather lost.

But as Zayn’s expression softened upon making eye contact with his butler, he outstretched his arms as Harry pushed himself up off of his seat and accepted the invitation into Zayn’s arms.

He hid his face in Zayn’s shoulder as his hands dug into the star’s shoulder blades. He gripped Zayn for fear that he’d get away from him – That James would take him away. Whereas everything was once good, it had all turned disastrous in the space of an hour. Last night was practically a distant memory for both Harry and Zayn, because how could they have ever given pleasure to one another when by tomorrow, their faces would be plastered over every tabloid in Britain, let alone the world – Everyone would know.

As Harry pulled away from Zayn and kissed him on the cheek and marveled at the sensation of Zayn’s stubble against his lips, Niall stood awkwardly to the side.

The butler smiled at Niall, but his smile did not reach Harry’s eyes. “I won’t say anything if you don’t want me to,” Niall insisted as he broke his silence. 

“I’m going to ring Richard, I've got a plan, but for the time being, It’d be best if you two stayed here,” Zayn said as he grabbed his denim jacket off of the back of the chair and his shades.

Harry interjected the star as he stood in his path with a frown firmly supplanted on his face. “Move, Harry,” Zayn urged his butler, as he looked past him towards the door. 

“Tell me what you’re going to do,” he replied with his arms crossed and his stare fixed on Zayn. He didn't reply at first, he just simply glared at Harry. He cursed himself for getting involved with somebody so inaccessible. Their relationship was bound to end in shambles, as soon as the Media caught rumour of Zayn Malik cavorting with a butler at the Lanesborough, they’d flock to the hotel and try their very hardest to catch a glimpse of this butler they speak of. Liam would deny it’s him, the other two middle-aged butlers would be out of the question entirely which only left one person, the delectably handsome butler referred to as Mr. Styles.

The headlines flashed at him in neon lights with puns surrounding Harry’s profession being the basis of the headlines.

He despised the fact that their short time together would culminate in the obvious deterioration of their relationship.

He knew the only remedy for the situation would destroy himself and Harry's relationship, but it was all he could conjure for the time being.

"Promise me you won't do anything stupid," ordered the brunette as a frown remained supplanted on his face. Zayn held Harry by the shoulders then and assured him that he wasn't going to murder James or anything stupid like that, but that his plan wasn't entirely foolproof. 

And once Zayn left the suite, Harry turned to Niall with a sigh and asked in a melancholic voice, "How did it come to this?"

-

Zayn ran down the stairs and occasionally gripped the banister for fear of falling. He had phoned Richard and had loosely explained what had occurred and like Richard's typical style, in resignation he agreed to meet Zayn in the lobby as soon as possible. He knew that his solution was preposterous and the consequences of his solution were entirely unfavourable.

But as he stumbled into the lobby and expressed relief at the relative emptiness of the lobby, he approached reception and asked if James had clocked out.

Zayn pushed through the ball room and ignored the startled stares of the staff polishing cutlery and glasses, and as he heard what he presumed to be Hyacinth's bellows, he prepared himself for whatever outcome may result from his undoubtedly controversial confrontation with James.

He entered the kitchen like a whirlwind, as he pushed both doors with force. James was stood next to Hyacinth with his phone in his hand and upon catching sight of Zayn, he laughed. "Looking for a job, are we?" he asked Zayn as his voice oozed condescension. 

Hyacinth went to shout at Zayn's presence in the kitchen, but upon noticing his overt state of animosity, she excused herself and joined the staff in the ball room. 

Zayn gritted his teeth and as he made his predatory approach on James and the Sous-Chef stumbled backwards against the sink. The star grabbed a hold of James' collar and dragged him up against his body so that his nose almost touched Zayn's. James didn't resist, but Zayn spied fear in the man's eyes.

"Listen here, fucker," Zayn began as his eyes pierced James', "If you think for one second that I was going to let you walk out of this hotel with the knowledge of what you've just seen, then you really haven't read about me in the newspapers, have you?" Zayn pronounced his words with such venom and force that small droplets of saliva fell onto James' face, and felt akin to poison.

"I'm a lost soul, mate. I'm a turbulent vagabond who has experienced many nadirs in my short life and if you fucking think that you'd try and make my life worse than it already is, then," Zayn stopped and turned his head to laugh in scorn at James, "Have fun trying to achieve the impossible."

But as James pulled away from the riled up Zayn, Zayn's strength dragged the Sous-Chef back towards him and flung him against the sink, to which James yelped as his tailbone connected with the steel framework.

"You take this to the papers and I can assure you that I will find you and make your life a living hell," Zayn promised as James then pulled away from Zayn and nodded in acknowledgement. "I'm not finished," he said as he took a breath to attempt to calm himself. His fists clenched and unclenched and as James watched his hands twitch, he grew nervous. Extremely nervous. "If you ever go within an inch of Harry again, I'll break your fucking legs in two, you got me?" his finger continued pointing at James who began nodding profusely.

As Zayn breathed out and felt the tension and anger leave his body, his fingers went to his temple and he squeezed his eyes shut. He hadn't been driven to the edge for ages, and this sudden unexpected explosion of hatred had left him with a tension migraine. And as he turned to leave, he turned back to a shaking James.

He reached deep into his pocket and pulled out notes, which he then proceeded to throw on the ground in front of James' feet. "To copper-fasten our agreement, take that and get the fuck out of my sight."

James nodded and like a dog to a bone, pounced on the notes and stuffed them into his pocket before rushing out of the kitchen, stumbling as he went.

Zayn leant against the counter-top and held his head low as he felt the migraine become more prominent. As he thought of the money that he'd thrown at James, the anger returned in him. He felt his blood boil and his teeth grit.

It was a large sum of money. A very large sum, and given Zayn's already dire financial situation, this event had now left him more-or-less broke.

And if Zayn were broke, he could no longer stay at the Lanesborough.

He could no longer be around Harry.

-

Niall had left Harry once the butler had calmed himself after James' unsuspected and unwelcome arrival. He was still in shock over his appearance. All his face did for Harry was dig up long forgotten memories that he had thought were locked up in a chest in the back of his mind, but as that day had proved, he was wrong.

As he waited patiently for Zayn, he tidied the Suite and even tackled tidying Zayn's bedroom. He grimaced at the banana peel underneath the bed and the sock in the bedside locker which was moist and very obviously not used for its actual purpose, but continued to arrange the bedroom.

As he glanced around the room, he couldn't help but smile. He recalled his first glance of the room once Zayn had arrived, of how Louis pushed through and scoured through Zayn's belongings. He remembered how Zayn's scent had left him feeling intoxicated, and he thought of last night and blushed.

When he was appointed butler to the Royal Suite and had viewed the king-sized bed, never could he have guessed that he'd be giving himself to Zayn Malik on its extravagant silken sheets. 

It had seemed that within mere hours of their cavorting, all that was once well was not.

-

Richard met Zayn in a quiet corner of the lobby, and as Zayn went into detail about what had happened, and about Harry, Richard was far from pleased. He scolded Zayn and cursed his libido. But upon realising Zayn's feelings for this butler, he'd softened and accepted that Zayn was with this Mr. Styles fellow.

"You're going to have to return home, you've realised that, I hope?" asked Richard as Zayn sighed and slumped down in his chair. Of course he had realised. He'd realised the second he'd thrown the money at that bedraggled ratbag James. "Your funds aren't sufficient enough to pay £10,000 per night. You can remain for tonight, but at the crack of dawn you have to leave, or your bank account will suffer," his manager warned Zayn. He simply nodded and barely acknowledged Richard's presence. 

As Richard said his farewells and gave another warning of his need to leave immediately in the morning, Zayn ordered himself a Manhattan and felt anger brew within him again. He'd guessed this abhorrence was as a corollary of withdrawing from the weed and alcohol, but then recalled that his temper was never remarkable even prior to his wild life.

As he finished his drink and felt dismay to part with his £10, he felt something stir within him, and this wasn't anger.

-

Harry was sat at the mahogany table leaning absentmindedly on his hand as he gazed around the tidied Suite. As he heard a knock at the door, he nearly jumped. His first thought was that It was James returning to try and get a better picture of himself and Zayn, but then thought that perhaps it was Niall or Zayn. Nevertheless, he found the courage to answer.

What he was met with was entirely unexpected.

The second he opened the door, a grin was supplanted on Zayn's face. His gaze traveled up Harry's lean, tall form and as his glare fell over Harry's crotch, the brunette spied the star lick his lips.

"Fuck," was all that was said before Zayn pushed Harry into the Suite and allowed his hands to grip tightly at Harry's hips. His butler whimpered into the kiss, and had protested at first as Zayn had construed mentions of "James," and "We can't," but the tension conjured by earlier's situation had left Zayn feeling extremely aroused and in desperate need of release. 

"Get this off," ordered Zayn as he tugged Harry's shirt out of his trousers as Harry undid the buttons on his waistcoat. Harry kissed along Zayn's jawline as the star's hands went to Harry's arse and squeezed, for which he received a satisfied, "Ooh," from Harry.

He was already straining against his jeans and as Harry's hand washed over his bulge, his teeth bit down onto his lip hard, but he shook his head as he grabbed hold of Harry's wrist. "You're doing what I want you to do," he said seductively into his butler's ear.

Harry's eyes were half closed, which appeared to be an effect of arousal on the brunette, Zayn had noted. As Zayn lifted Harry's hand and took his index finger into his mouth, Harry moaned and allowed his hand to rest on the small of Zayn's back.

Zayn's tongue traced the top of Harry's finger and ran down the underside of his finger, until coming back up to the tip. All the while Harry's eyes were fixed on Zayn's mouth and his mouth went slack at the sensations which shot to his groin.

His tongue circled around Harry's finger then and he smirked upon witnessing the now familiar indication of arousal from Harry as a shiver ran through his body and he released a long, "Yes."

Zayn removed Harry's finger then and kissed it from the knuckle to the tip and asked Harry in a deep, innocent voice, "Would you like me to do that to your cock?" Harry nodded slowly and winced at Zayn's choice of term. As much as he disliked swearing, Harry had to admit that when it came from Zayn's mouth in moments of intimacy, it was incredibly hot.

Zayn fell to his knees, right there in the hallway and Harry's eyes rolled into the back of his head as Zayn tore open his trousers, and seemed pleased to be met with Harry's thick, hardened cock. "No," Harry interrupted as he bit his knuckle to keep prevent himself from exclaiming obscenities. But as Zayn's dark eyelashes were all he could see as his lover stared at his shaft, Harry allowed both hands to drift into Zayn's hair.

He had never had this done to him before, so as soon as Zayn kissed the head of his cock, Harry's hand shot up to cover his mouth as a groan threatened to escape. Zayn smiled devilishly at Harry as he moved down its length and continued planting soft kisses on his hardness. Harry continued to lose control of all bodily functions as one hand left Zayn's hair to lean on the side-table in the hallway. 

Zayn's hand wrapped around his cock at that point, to which Harry gave a yelp but forced himself to remain silent. Zayn released himself from his own underwear at that point and began stroking himself as his other hand moved up and down on Harry's cock.

And in one swift movement, Zayn took all of Harry into his mouth and with no mechanism of self-control at that point, Harry released a throaty moan as he pulled on Zayn's hair. He felt a stifling need to thrust into Zayn's mouth but had decided that that was not an entirely wise idea. As Zayn's tongue licked the head of his cock and traveled to its base, Harry's stomach muscles spasmed and he cursed himself as he felt release pool in his stomach.

He really needed to work on his self-restraint.

As Zayn released Harry for a moment and took in deep breaths, his eyes looked up at Harry and as Harry caught sight of their darkness, he felt weak at the knees. "You want to fuck my mouth, don't you?" Zayn asked as his hands replaced the movement of his mouth. He kept eye contact with Harry all the while and squeezed his cock as Harry threw his head back and couldn't keep eye contact anymore. But Zayn's gaze remained fixed on Harry.

Harry eventually nodded with a whimper of, "Please," and as Zayn scooted forward and spat obscenely onto his hand, Harry felt a shiver travel from the tip of his toes to his shoulders as he bent forward involuntarily once a spasm violently hit him. 

"Fuck, Harry," Zayn sighed in wonder at Harry's response to his touch. He adored the way Harry was laid bare before his very eyes and the way in which he allowed him to see himself in such a state of vulnerability.

Zayn recoiled for a moment and as he sat back on his hunkers and pulled his shirt over his head, he allowed Harry to calm himself for a moment, until a song came to mind.

As the lyrics slowly came back to him, Zayn stood up and stood close to Harry, before leaning forward and softly singing into his ear, "Help me tear down my reason," he paused to observe Harry's response and was thoroughly pleased to see Harry's eyes go wide before slamming shut. "Help me, It's your sex I can smell," he continued as his hand wrapped around Harry's manhood and tugged in time with his humming. Harry allowed his head to fall against Zayn's right shoulder and as he muttered sweet nothings against Zayn's skull tattoo, the star finished his melody, "Help me, you make me perfect," he sung and landed a gentle kiss on Harry's cheek, "Help me become somebody else."

"Zayn," Harry whined and dug his nails into Zayn's back. He hadn't actually heard Zayn sing before in his presence, and his smooth voice had done wondrous things for Harry at that moment. 

And as Zayn fell to his knees and enveloped Harry's shaft in his mouth, his hands grabbed a hold of Zayn's shoulders and pushed him away as he warned the star, "I'm about to come."

But a devilish grin from Zayn was not the reaction he had premeditated. Zayn was nodding and working his hand slowly up and down his butler's cock when he whispered, "I know. I want to swallow you. All of you," and he added a kiss to the head of Harry's manhood.

He felt his knees buckle and as a reflex, his hand covered his mouth as a shaky moan escaped. "Oh my god," he whimpered as Zayn took him into his mouth and began moving his head slowly.

He took a hold of Harry's hands on his shoulders and placed them in his hair. His palms rested on top of Harry's hands and as he scrunched his hands up, Harry's took a firm grip of Zayn's hair, and he took the hint of what it was that Zayn was goading him to do. His hands gripped the strands of Zayn's hair tightly and with an experimental thrust of his hips, he felt vibrations against his cock as Zayn hummed in satisfaction.

Harry's mouth formed a small O shape and he continued thrusting himself into Zayn's mouth. The star's cheeks were hollowed and as his dark eyes looked up to admire Harry, he was met with a sensation like no other.

His chin met his chest and his hips quickened as Zayn's head was controlled by Harry's hands as they tugged on his hair. Zayn came before Harry, and as his come splashed across Harry's legs and his hand quickly moved up and down on himself, he moaned against Harry's cock, which drove his butler to the edge.

His hips gave one last thrust and as he released himself into Zayn's mouth, he couldn't help himself from shouting out in ecstasy. "Z-Zayn," he whimpered as Zayn's two hands were on Harry's shaft at this point and working to the best of their ability to drain him dry. 

What he didn't expect was his second release, Zayn pulled back for a moment but as Harry pulled him back and gave a grunt, he took him into his mouth once again and allowed Harry to thrust fiercely into his mouth. Droplets of sweat trickled down Harry's chest and Zayn's fringe contained traces of semen as he ran his hands through his hair.

After pulling away from Harry and opening his mouth to reveal his come, Harry felt himself shake and involuntarily whimper as Zayn then shut his mouth, swallowed, and opened his mouth in triumph as he swallowed Harry's load.

Harry was in shock. His multiple orgasm hit him hard and spasms were still reverberating through his whole entire body. His ability to form sentences was lacking and he felt extremely sleepy.

Zayn got up off of his knees and wiped his mouth before taking Harry into his arms and kissing him slowly, his tongue battling Harry's.

Harry felt himself come down off of cloud nine slowly and as his normal functioning returned, he felt bad for Zayn, "I need to get you off next time," he said sleepily with a smile, to which Zayn laughed.

"Next time, maybe," he winked and stroked Harry's forearms. "Seeing you lose all sense of being is probably more arousing than having your lips around me," he added, to which Harry raised his eyebrows.

"These lips were made for sucking, Mr. Malik," Harry winked and received a laugh in response.

Silence ensued and as their sweat cooled, they began to put back on the clothes that were discarded earlier.

"Tonight, you're going to be mine," Harry assured Zayn as the star buttoned up his waistcoat for him, like the gentleman he was taught to be. 

But as Zayn recalled his chat with Richard earlier, he felt anguish strike him.

He forced a smile for his beloved butler and simply said, "We'll see."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this was an enjoyable chapter for you all and I may have to warn you for coming chapters. The song Zayn was humming was Nine Inch Nail's "Closer."


	11. No Preparation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been long. Too, too long.

Harry pottered around the tables, inquiring what each guest would like for their dinner that evening. An elderly man commented on Harry's friendliness and he assisted a young mother with her daughter as he ran off to grab a high chair for the toddler. 

Zayn sat at his usual table in the corner, with a beanie on his head and shades covering his eyes. Louis allowed his gaze to land on the star only briefly and rolled his eyes at his appearance. But as he continued glancing over at Zayn, the star's furtive glances at Harry became far more obvious and Harry even winked at him at one point. He would have to be far more discreet, Louis thought to himself.

Harry strapped the young child into the seat and adopted a child-like voice as he fleetingly played with her. The girl giggled and in return, so did Harry. "She's adorable," he praised the girl's mother and added a gentle tickle to the child's chin. All the while, Zayn had watched on. He felt his heart sore over his butler but it soon deflated as he recalled his necessity to check-out of the Lanesborough on the morrow.

Harry finally got to Zayn and with his notepad and pen in his hand, he greeted his lover with a courteous, “Good evening, sir,” to which Zayn responded with a smirk.

“Mr Styles,” he nodded in acknowledgment of his butler. “What tickles your fancy this evening, Sir?” Harry asked cheekily.

Zayn merely shrugged his shoulders before leaning forward slightly and whispering, “You on your knees, Mr. Styles.”

Harry’s dimples sunk into his cheeks as he grinned widely and began to write down something onto his notepad. “Good choice, Sir,” he continued with the façade, “Do you have a dessert of preference?” 

Zayn pretended to be in deep thought as he considered his choices, “What would you recommend, Mr. Styles?” he asked.

Harry shuffled from side to side in thought before a smile appeared on his lips, “Well, Sir, you could opt for an intense make-out session or you could go full throttle and allow me to do what I will with you,” he finished with a coy wink.

Zayn perceived heat pooling in the bottom of his abdomen and as Harry’s stare was kept with his, he reached his decision, “I’ll take the full throttle option, please,” and as he folded his menu shut – which he hadn’t even glanced at – Harry took it off of him and handed Zayn a slip of paper, “Your receipt, sir.”

As Harry walked away, Zayn opened the piece of paper and the words, “nine o’clock,” were written in bold letters. He cursed to himself. The chances of him lasting until Harry’s shift at the buffet was over were slim to none – but he would have to.

Louis observed all that was happening and frowned as Zayn left immediately after Harry had taken his order. It appeared that Mr. Malik was skipping dinner.

-

On their breaks, Niall, Liam, Louis and Harry sat outside at their usual table. Their usual boisterous chatter was toned down and Niall and Liam kept glancing questioningly at Louis and Harry, until Niall eventually spoke up, “Do they know?”

Harry’s head shot up to look at the Irishman who raised his eyebrows, urging Harry to respond. The butler shifted uncomfortably on his seat and glanced around the yard until he shook his head and avoided Liam’s gaze.

“Know what?” the head butler asked, eyes searching Harry. Louis remained silent. He was positive of the fact that what Niall was referring to was him and Mr. Malik’s relationship, but he wanted to continue Harry’s belief that no-one, bar Niall, knew of it. 

The look Harry gave Niall could easily have killed him, towards which Niall gave an innocent shrug of his shoulders and said, “They’re your best friends as well, Harry, they deserve to know as much as I know.”

Liam was the image of confusion at that point, “Louis, what are they on about?” he asked the waiter who sat with his back against the deck chair and his arms folded.

Louis glanced over at Harry and noticed the brunette gulp out of nervousness. “Niall’s talking about Harry and Mr. Malik’s relationship, I think.” He spilled the beans.

Harry’s eyes went wide and immediately landed on Liam, who had let out some sort of a noise. His eyes then swept across wildly to land on Louis, “Should have been more discreet, mate,” Louis said with a shrug of his shoulders, “It was hard not to notice,” he continued.

“I never told him, Harry, honest to god!” Niall interjected in order to attempt to save himself from being eternally hated by Harry.

“You can’t have intimate relations with the guests, Harry, that’s out of the question! Wait until Mr. Hawthorne hears about this,” Liam said.

“I haven’t told anyone else, don’t worry – I never knew you fancied the lads, you’re more of a ladies type to me. Whatever tickles your fancy,” Louis said over Liam.

Niall remained silent and bit nervously at his fingernails as he looked from Liam to Louis whilst the two continued speaking to the thin air, as Harry had long zoned out from the conversation.

Harry remained quiet and gripped the arms of his seat until his knuckles had turned white. In less than three hours him and Zayn had gone from being undetected to detected by the three biggest twats in the Lanesborough – Well, more so Niall and Louis.

“I’m sorry,” he eventually said in a quiet voice. 

Niall glanced up from his fingernails, Liam stopped talking and Louis unfolded his arms. Their eyes landed on Harry, who was the epitome of fragility.

"I should've told you, Liam," he said to the table, ignoring his boss' glare. "I do like men, Louis, I didn't think I had to tell you all seeing as It is my own sexuality, but I'm sorry I kept Mr. Mal- Zayn and I's relantionship to myself. God forbid I'd want some privacy," Harry grit his teeth at the last sentence and continued avoiding his friends' eyes - Privacy seemed to be completely nullified now. 

"You don't need to apologise, we're not mad, Harry... A bit left out is all," Louis explained but his explanation landed on deaf ears as Harry stood up from his seat abruptly.

"I'm sorry for whatever it is that I did and if you'll excuse me, I must attend to Mr. Malik..." Harry began walking away, but paused before opening the door into the hotel. "Zayn," he corrected himself from his previous use of title.

He forced himself to turn around and face his friends before saying, "My lover."

Their reaction to his term of use was delayed, but as Louis stood up and walked over to Harry, he paused before his friend. "I haven't seen you around lately," he said with a sad smile, "But now I know why," he continued as his smile grew softer. "I've missed hearing your stupid laugh at breaks and in the kitchens, Haz," the boys were an unaccustomed to Louis' sentiment, but it warmed their hearts to hear him speak so lovingly of Harry.

"All you had to say was that you had found someone... A special someone, it would seem," he went on and smiled at Harry's embarrassed smile upon mentioning Zayn as his "special someone." "I understand now, I do..." he paused and looked behind at Liam and Niall who were now talking to one another.

"But, Harry... Seeing as Mr. Malik is leaving tomorrow morning, I just don't want you to be abandoned by him." Harry's smile fell. His brows furrowed deeply and he took a slight step back from Louis.

"What?" 

Louis frowned and explained how he was given the job of assisting Zayn with his luggage tomorrow morning and how he would then have to report to Liam with Zayn's key cards to the Royal Suite. "You did... Know, right?" Louis asked with apprehension, but by the look on Harry's face, no, Harry definitely did not know.

Harry shook his head slowly and as he began to feel violently ill, he bid farewell to his friends and had to force himself not to run through the lavish hallways of the Lanesborough as he made his way to the Royal Suite.

Furious wasn't the word to describe how Harry felt towards Zayn at that moment.

-

Zayn stuffed clothes into a suitcase on the floor and wondered why he even brought some clothes with him in the first place. He thought it odd that he would be returning to his home after inhabiting the Royal Suite for so long, but he and Richard had both agreed that he was recovering from his previous lifestyle well and that he would be fine upon return to his own home. Plus, his bank account would be thankful of the change.

As he zipped up the suitcase and kicked it under the bed, he looked around the bedroom and gave a small sigh. It's previous appearance of clothes strewn in every corner did not even remotely resemble its present appearance. Now, he concluded, the bedroom actually looked like one which belonged to a £10,000 Suite.

As he began packing away his toiletries and such, he heard someone, presumably Harry entering the Suite, much more loudly than usual.

"In the bedroom!" he called out after hearing something being chucked onto the table.

What he was met with was not what he had expected at all.

Harry stormed into the bedroom with an expression resembling the devil's on his face. "When were you going to tell me?" he yelled at Zayn as he removed his suit jacket with force and chucked it onto the bed, "Or were you just going to up and leave without saying a single word to me?" he continued his rage.

Zayn's face dropped.

"Harry-" he moved towards his butler, who immediately took a step backwards, shaking his head ferociously. "Listen to me," Zayn went on as Harry's deep, aggravated breaths filled the bedroom.

The butler stood stoic on the spot, but with his heart beating fast and a lump in his throat, he shook from head to toe in anger. "I only found this out recently. Richard and I decided it was for the best after the James situation," he attempted to explain as Harry's eyes were fixed on the floor, his arms tightly crossed.

Harry didn't reply. He felt he couldn't even hazard a reply in the case that he would just erupt into incoherent sobs. He knew Zayn had to leave at some point, was well aware of the reality that their relationship couldn't last... That didn't mean it would hurt any less.

"The Suite is costing me a fortune as well and I've recovered well enough for me to head home, Harry," he paused, awaiting any response from his lover. But he remained silent. Zayn stepped forward then, hesitating at first, but was thankful when Harry didn't recoil from his approach.

"Harry?" he said timidly, bending his head slightly to be able to catch Harry's gaze as the butler continued staring at the ground.

He lifted his head up slowly and Zayn felt guilt stab his heart as barely there tears prickled Harry's emerald eyes. "Can't you just stay?" he asked in a small voice as his chin scrunched up and a stray tear trailed down his cheek. "I don't want you to go," he said again, this time hurling himself onto Zayn and burying his face deep in his shoulder.

Zayn shut his eyes and sighed deeply as his hand went to Harry's back and rubbed him in soothing circular motions. He very badly wanted to say that he could stay, to say that he'd always be around and that the two of them would spend as much time as they could together at any given moment - but given his position and his career, that was never an option, nor will it ever be an option. 

"And I don't want to leave you," he said as he planted a kiss on those curls he so adored and inhaled Harry's distinct scent. He would miss this terribly, he thought. 

But as Harry's head lifted up from Zayn's shoulder and faced Zayn head-on, his eyes moist and his face blotchy from the tears, he simply asked, "One more night?" in a deep voice, and allowed his hands to cascade down Zayn's sides and give his hips a tight squeeze.

Zayn felt Harry's chest against his, and his groin against his and perceived hardness upon Harry's part, and with a simple nod from Zayn, Harry immediately crashed his lips onto his.

As he was taken aback at Harry's abruptness, Zayn's response was delayed at first, but as he felt Harry's vice grip on his sides, as if he didn't want to let his Master go, Zayn retaliated and allowed his hands to thread through the mess that was Harry's curls.

"You're mine," Harry muttered into the kisses repeatedly, and earned a deep groan from his Master who was struck dumb by the dominance which Harry had adopted. His usual submissive self was negated and in his place was this yearning, sexually driven man who Zayn, admittedly, was very aroused by.

Harry's hands gripped the bottom of Zayn's shirt and pulled it quickly up over his head before turning Zayn around and resting his chin on Zayn's shoulder. Turning his head slightly towards Zayn's ear, Harry allowed himself to nibble gently on his earlobe before whispering in an octave below his normal voice, "Say you're mine."

Zayn's eyes went wide and his jeans became tighter, his heart rate increased and his head leaned back against Harry. His butler urged him to say he was his yet again, as he traced Zayn's prominent jawline gently with his index finger.

"Harry," Zayn moaned deeply as he ground his hips back against Harry's crotch, to which Harry responded with a satisfied, "Mmm," and took a hold of Zayn's hips yet again. 

"I'm yours, fuck am I yours," Zayn insisted as he shut his eyes and allowed his hips to become loose whilst Harry took control and used Zayn's submission to his advantage as he gripped his sides and forced Zayn to grind back against himself.

"Good boy," Harry smirked as Zayn's hips moved delectably against his. "Do you like it when I'm in charge, Master?" he asked slyly and added a bite onto Zayn's neck, and in reply Zayn allowed his hand to reach down between himself and Harry to palm the material covering Harry's cock.

"Ah ah ah," Harry scolded Zayn as he moved away from his touch, "Don't touch," he said as he spun Zayn around to face him. His hands traveled down the lengths of Zayn's arms until encasing his wrists in his hands. 

Zayn was lost for words. He was rarely the one under another's thumb, so the experience was new and given the fact that this was Harry initiating such a new experience, it was made all the more enjoyable. He was going to relent himself to Harry and fuck was he going to enjoy it.

But what happened within the next few seconds was entirely unexpected as Harry began undressing himself quickly. His waistcoat was thrown to the side, and his shirt left opened to reveal his sallow-skinned chest to Zayn. His slacks were then disposed of and he then went about stripping Zayn.

Dropping to his knees, he dragged Zayn's dark jeans off of him and landed sweet kisses along the tops of Zayn's thighs. With his shirt already off, Harry stood up and escorted his Master to the bed, where he pushed Zayn down harshly and grinned as he began climbing on top of the star until he straddled him with a look of triumph on his face.

"Put your hands on my sides," Harry ordered in a strict voice as Zayn did what he was told and only that. 

Harry's hands explored Zayn's torso. His index finger traveled from the hollow in Zayn's throat to his sternum until reaching his barely-there happy trail. He could feel Zayn's hardness against him and was becoming very aware of the small noises Zayn was making upon every touch. He was nowhere near as expressive or vocal as Harry was, but his little quirks were still incredibly arousing to Harry.

Harry pinned Zayn's wrists above his head and kissed first his right clavicle, then his left, and continued landing soft kisses onto Zayn's skin. "You want me," Harry said against his skin and perceived Zayn nodding above him. "And I want you," Harry continued and sat back on Zayn which earned him a low grunt and a squeeze of his sides.

"But..." Harry trailed off now as he got off of Zayn, much to the star's dismay. He rummaged in the drawer beside the bed and was relieved to find the items in their rightful place. Zayn hadn't packed them away yet, thank goodness.

As he turned back to face Zayn, who held himself up on his elbows now, he dangled the packet in front of Zayn and watched on as his lover's eyes went wide and he pushed himself up off of the bed. 

Harry bit his lip to stop himself from smiling but his dimples were a giveaway as Zayn made his way over to Harry and took him into his arms. "I want you to fuck me," Harry said against his shoulder, but Zayn shushed him instantaneously and pulled away from his butler to study his face.

"Are you sure?" Zayn asked sincerely, hesitant as he knew of Harry's virginity.

Harry simply nodded and without further delay, dropped to his knees. His nails dug into Zayn's thighs as he immediately enveloped Zayn's cock with his mouth. Zayn shouted out an expletive at the suddenness and his hand went to the back of his neck.

A mop of curls bobbed slowly on his shaft, and Zayn moaned as he took a handful of said curls and guided Harry vicariously up and down his shaft. He had dreamed of the day when he could grip Harry's hair as he sucked him off in earnest.

But as Zayn glanced down and caught sight of Harry's emerald eyes on his, he bit down hard on his lip. Harry gave a wink to Zayn, which he couldn't help but snicker at before moaning deep in his throat as Harry fondled his balls gently.

He wasn't going to last, he had realised, and so pulled Harry up to face him. With his two hands on either side of Harry's angelic face, he kissed his forehead and gave him a small smile. Harry smiled in return and it seemed that his former insistence of him taking control had dissipated. The two moved to the bed and Harry sat with his hands crossed in front of him as Zayn ripped open the condom packet.

He then came up behind Harry and landed a kiss on the nape of his neck, which sent shiver's down the butler's spine. Harry forced himself to relax as Zayn whispered what it was he was going to do into his ear.

"Is it going to hurt?" he asked quietly, towards which Zayn gave a small smile and simply nodded. "Don't worry, love, I'll take care of you," Zayn assured Harry as he told him to lie down flat on the bed. Zayn had never referred to him as "love," before and oddly, he felt butterflies at the pet name.

"Relax," Zayn ordered his lover as he poured lube over his left fingers, with his right hand resting gently on Harry's right arse cheek. Harry's eyes remained closed as his head rested on his forearms and he jumped slightly as he felt Zayn's fingers running along himself experimentally.

He kept releasing small mewls, partially due to his unsatisfied state up to that point, but mainly due to the reality that he was about to give himself to Zayn. After this, he would be Zayn's, and Zayn's his. Even if he did leave tomorrow, Harry was content to know that his innocence would forever belong with Zayn.

One finger entered him slowly, which caused Harry to release somewhat of a groan. The feeling was foreign, but not unwelcome. And with Zayn's soothing words, it was made all the more bearable.

"That's it," Zayn soothed as his other hand was planted firmly on the small of Harry's back to hold him in place in the case that he'd shoot off of the bed or something. Another finger was added, and that's when things went downhill. Harry released a shout, and scrunched his eyes shut. "Babe, relax, shh," Zayn continued with the soothing words, and Harry, amidst the partial pain, inwardly smiled at Zayn's use of "babe." 

"Just fuck me," Harry whimpered as he moved himself against Zayn's fingers. "I don't care about the pain I just want you," he continued with his pleas, but Zayn was hesitant. He did not want to harm Harry in any way, but if he was yearning for him this much, he was willing to give it to him. 

"If you're sure-"

"I'm sure!" he responded, but his voice was clearly under strain.

Zayn removed his fingers, towards which Harry whimpered into the bed covers over. "Come on," he urged Zayn as he positioned himself in front of Zayn's shaft.

His eagerness was extremely tantalising for Zayn, and admittedly, he had dreamed of the day he'd finally mark Harry as being his. So as the head of his cock brushed against Harry's entrance, the two of them groaned in response to the feeling.

"Yes," Harry whispered as his head met the bed and his hands gripped the sheets in preparation.

"Fuck," Zayn gritted his teeth as he pushed in.

Harry's sharp intake of breath went straight to Zayn's cock and as he pulled back out, his butler let out a lengthy moan in return. "Again," Harry urged in his sexually aroused state, and as Zayn complied, he felt the familiar sensations of release creeping within himself. 

As his muscles spasmed and Zayn's pace quickened only slightly, Zayn bent forward so that his chest met Harry's back, and he hid his face in the nape of Harry's neck.

Curls brushed against Zayn's forehead as he continued moving in and out of Harry, and as Harry continued to convulse in response to the pleasure, he feared that their first time would not be lasting long at all. 

Zayn's fingers dug deep into Harry's thighs as he quickened the pace and scrawled his teeth against Harry's skin. "Zayn," Harry released a guttural groan as he felt Zayn's hand wrap itself around his cock and begin to tug in earnest. "D-don't," Harry muttered against the pillow. He wanted it to last, not to end, and if Zayn were to stimulate him in two ways, well, it certainly wouldn't last.

Their sweat began to mingle together and Harry's voice had continuously become high pitched as his release became near. And as Zayn's pace quickened and his thrusts became inconsistent, Harry allowed himself to let go.

His hands dug into the duvet cover and gripped tightly for leverage as his muscles convulsed and his eyes rolled into the back of his head. No words were released, much to his own surprise - he was simply not physically able to form any words. He moved back against Zayn in earnest as he rode out his orgasm and as Zayn thrust himself into Harry one last time before crying out in ecstasy, only then did Harry let out Zayn's name, brimming with desire and want.

"Yes, yes Zayn, yes," he repeated as Zayn collapsed onto him and breathed heavily against his neck.

As he himself caught his breath, and felt that his muscles were now under control, he nudged Zayn off of him until they were both lying side by side, looking up at the ceiling.

Their breaths were the only noise that filled the room. It was nice - very nice.

And as Harry whispered, "I love you," he paused.

Had he just said that?

His head jerked over to look at Zayn's response to his impromptu declaration of love, but thankfully, it appeared that Zayn hadn't heard him.

But despite his declaration falling on deaf ears, he wouldn't take it back. It was the truth.

He was in love with Zayn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this wee chapter!


	12. Madness.

His bag was bursting with his belongings and his heart was heavy with the reality that he was about to leave Harry. And he had no idea when he’d next seem him again.

He stood at the foot of the bed and watched on as his beloved butler slept. He didn't want to wake Harry up and figured that it would be best if he just slipped out. Of course, Harry waking up to an empty bed would leave him feeling abandoned and infuriated but it was the only option that Zayn thought would be less painful.

Their goodbye would lengthen and therefore the pain would become far more unbearable. 

He tilted his head in awe at this young man who he had unexpectedly become so fond of during his time at the Lanesborough. He would miss him. And he hoped that Harry would miss him too.

His eyes struggled to pull away from Harry’s pristine, peaceful face. After last night’s escapades, Harry’s hair fell over his eyes and escaped from its normal style as the exertion proved to be of nuisance to his hair, which Zayn smirked at.

With a glance at his watch, Zayn decided it was time to leave. But not without one last kiss.

He gently let his bag fall onto the floor and bent forward slowly, praying that Harry didn't wake up.

As his lips slotted into place with Harry’s for a split second, he shut his eyes and tried to implant the sensation of Harry’s lips on his into his memory. Upon pulling away, Harry’s eyes had fluttered ever-so-slightly in his sleep, and Zayn smiled sadly.

He didn't want to even consider what Harry’s reaction would be upon waking up and finding him absent – he just hoped Harry would understand.

With one last look at his “Mr. Styles,” he made his way into the kitchen and left a note on the counter.

And then, he was gone.

-

The light poured in through the long windows of the bedroom as Harry stretched and wiped his eyes clean of sleep. He groaned as he went to move and found his body aching. He knew he would be sore after what had happened last night, so it didn't come as that much of a surprise to him.

As he rolled over to catch a glimpse of Zayn, he was met with an empty bed.

He furrowed his brows and sat himself up on his elbows before calling out Zayn’s name. No reply. He continued calling, getting progressively louder, but no-one replied.

Pushing himself up out of bed, he grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around himself as he went to inspect the Suite. 

It was clean, too clean. Zayn’s belongings were nowhere to be found, and Zayn was nowhere to be found.

Then, it dawned on Harry. “He couldn't have left,” Harry said quietly to himself as he stood alone in the large Suite. He pulled the blanket tighter around himself.

Padding his bare feet on the cold kitchen tiles, he spied a note resting against the kettle.

Harry read the note and felt a lump form in his throat.

The note read: “You never made me that tea.”

His laugh wasn't jovial, but empty. He laughed at the note, but his laughter soon turned into dismay as he found himself sitting on the ground with his face hidden in his blanket.

-

“Has anyone seen Harry?” Liam asked the staff in the kitchens who looked around at each other, dumbfounded. They all shook their heads. “He should have clocked in two hours ago…” He trailed off.

Louis made eye contact with Liam and motioned for him to go out of the kitchens to talk.

In the pantry, the two talked quietly. “Zayn signed out this morning,” Louis explained to Liam, who gave an aggravated sigh. “I helped with his luggage, we may check on him, Liam,” Louis expressed his worry about the welfare of his friend.

So Liam decided to give Louis permission to go up to the Royal Suite.

“Niall!” Liam shouted out as he came back into the kitchens. Niall, startled, approached Liam and as Liam looked him up and down and gave a shrug of his shoulders, he said, “Wait on the tables at lunchtime, Louis is MIA and please clean yourself up!”

Niall beamed at Liam’s words, and as he chucked away his potato peeler and apron, he exclaimed happily, “It’s my time to shine!” towards which Liam rolled his eyes at the irony of his statement.

-

Using one of the maid’s all-access key cards, Louis entered the Royal Suite and shut the door quietly behind me. It was blatant that Zayn was no longer inhabiting the Suite.

As soon as he made his way into the living room area, Louis was met with a disheveled Harry wrapped in a blanket staring back at him. “He’s gone,” was all Harry said before Louis sat down beside his friend and laid a caring hand on his knee.

“I gathered,” replied Louis. Harry was dressed, but only barely. His shirt was opened and as he threw the blanket off of himself, he wore sweat pants, which was a shocking sight to Louis.

“Mr. Styles wearing sweat pants, I thought I’d never see the day!” Louis said as he attempted to lighten the mood which was so very obviously low.

Harry shrugged his shoulders insouciantly but Louis was relieved as he spied those familiar dimples sinking into Harry’s cheeks. 

“He's left me, Louis, and he didn't even say goodbye,” Harry sighed to himself as he leaned against Louis' frame. “What we had wasn't what I thought it was...” he continued before stopping himself abruptly.

Louis turned Harry to face himself, and as he gripped his friend's shoulders and looked into his eyes, he was visibly empty. Harry's usual content self was long gone and in his stead was an unrecognisable person – It was unsettling for Louis to see.

“What did you think it was, Harry?” Louis asked tentatively.

Pulling away from Louis, Harry tensed up as he glanced around the empty Suite. “I said I loved him,” he blurted out. 

Louis' hands moved up to cover his face slowly as he released a heavy sigh and groaned in disbelief, "Oh, Harry."

He couldn't bring himself to look at Louis. Since his pouring out of adoration for Zayn, he'd more or less realised how incredibly ridiculous his impromptu sharing of love was. It was said in the heat of the moment, he had concluded, and now, he thought nothing of it. At least, he thought he thought nothing of it.

What he was thankful for was that Zayn hadn't heard him. But If Zayn had in fact heard him and chose not to mention it, he would definitely never see the star again. After some time by himself, he had come to the conclusion that Zayn wasn't the type of person who was after love. With his career and position in life, love would definitely be out of the question for Zayn.

But, then again, one cannot predict when one becomes smitten.

Shaking his head furiously, Harry stood up from the sofa and began buttoning up his shirt as Louis then stood up beside him. "You shouldn't be working today," Louis insisted that Harry take the day off, but the brunette was hearing nothing of the sort.

Sure, his state of mind at the time wasn't entirely favourable in work conditions, but he wasn't going to let himself be beaten. He was not going to succumb to the emotions threatening to rise to the forefront of his mind. He designated a box in the back of mind to hold emotions entitled "Zayn," and he swore to himself to never let that box open ever again.

"I'm never seeing him again, am I, Lou?" Harry asked in a quiet tone of voice whilst he located his waistcoat and bow tie and went about arranging his attire for the day ahead.

Louis shuffled his feet and staring Harry dead-straight in his eyes, he slowly shook his head, after which Harry collected his suit jacket and made his way toward the door.

He was a butler.

Up until that moment, Harry realised that since himself and Zayn had become intimately involved with one another, his main priority as butler of the Royal Suite... Was not his main priority anymore. His duties as butler were more important to Harry than anything, or so he thought. It was his life, his livelihood, and he'd nearly let it all go to waste as a corollary of a fling with some pompous-headed pop star.

Various expletive adjectives came to Harry's mind to describe Zayn at that moment in time, but again, they were stored in that box in the back of his mind. The box was already full.

Louis followed Harry into the Royal Suite's hallway and as he bent down to pick up a small note, he frowned at the words written on the paper.

As a reflex, Harry calmly took the note out of Louis' hands and proceeded to tear the note into tiny pieces.

He resolved that he was not sad anymore.

Nor was he angry.

He was simply devoid of emotion.

And as Harry shut the door to the Royal Suite, with it, he allowed all memories of Zayn to be contained within that Suite. 

-

Hyacinth scurried through the main lobby, balancing cake tins and various utensils used in the art of baking as she dodged past staff decorating the stairs with a garland covered in various pastel-coloured roses.

She burst in through the door to the banquet room, almost knocking over a young waiter on a ladder placing roses all around the door way. After his startled yell at the chef, her reply involved sticking up her middle finger to the young man, which he was very clearly offended by. No-one really knew how the defiant woman of the Lanesborough's norms had maintained her job as head chef, or how she even got the job in the first place, but few were brave enough to question her position. 

Harry cursed to himself as a pin went straight into his thumb and he recoiled in anguish as a small treacle of blood dripped down his finger. Liam was at hand to tend to the wounded butler, and steadfastly had a plaster on his war wound.

Fed up with sticking up fake roses everywhere, Harry glanced around the room for someone to chat to instead. Louis was preoccupied with making sure the center pieces for the tables were presentable and meeting high standards, Niall was nowhere to be seen, and Liam had soon rushed off once he had provided Harry with a plaster.

Sighing, he collected up the roses and made his way into the staff quarters. It was mayhem. Every member of staff were rushing to finish preparations for the arrival of a stampede of beautiful models, all arriving that night ahead of the beginning of London Fashion Week on the morrow.

Harry was forced to endure his fellow young colleague's conjectures about which models had opted to stay in the Lanesborough, and if he thought any of them would have any hope in hell in perhaps "pulling one" for the night. He kept himself distant from the conversation and only really added to it when he alone was asked which model he likes. He never knew who to say, so he shrugged and said, "They're all fine looking young women," and his colleagues would firmly agree.

Louis had his eyes on one model in particular, and had continued to go over his plan with Harry about how he'd nab her, much to Harry's boredom. "This job mightn't have been such a bad idea after all," he said one day as he lounged outside in the British sunshine - a rare feeling on both him and Harry's skin.

"If I get a lovely model under my arms, or... Me," he said with a wink at Harry who screwed up his face in reply, "Then it wouldn't have been a waste after all!"

Liam went on to scold Louis for subjecting the models to such derogatory viewpoints, and Niall continued to laugh at Louis' sarcastic replies to the Head Butler.

Harry zoned out of the conversation at that moment. Female models weren't his forte, fashion wasn't his forte - He couldn't have given a toss. He left Louis to his Lothario ways and excused himself from the table.

The sooner bloody Fashion Week was over, the better.

-

The Suite was spic and span, as always. It had been refurbished delightfully and despite Harry's hesitance towards its refurbishment at first, once he was shown the finished product, he was overjoyed.

The Royal Suite he knew was long out of his memory, and his memories out of that Suite were also long gone. Within the year since Mr. Malik's abrupt departure, Harry had few Masters. Although, he was butler to Princess Madeleine of Sweden during her brief stay in London, so the year wasn't entirely unexciting. 

He'd had no contact from Zayn at all. But upon reading newspapers and from being on the internet, he had gathered that Zayn had not missed him. He'd had two girlfriends since he left the Lanesborough, and had even had a boyfriend for a short amount of time. The media clung to Zayn's relationships and everything was documented. It pained Harry, it really did. Despite that closed box in the back of his mind containing memories of Zayn, he had to admit that seeing Zayn move on so swiftly from their time together was hurtful.

He had since brought out a new album, Harry knew that much, seeing as his song "Gone," was constantly played on the radio. Ironically, the song focused on what it felt like to be abandoned. Upon hearing it for the first time, Harry was angry and frankly, insulted that he could write a song like that when he was not the one to experience abandonment - he was the one to initiate it. 

Harry missed him. He missed his cursing, he missed his smell, he missed his stupid habit of wearing shades inside and he missed the sound of his voice. But what he missed the most was the happiness he felt with Zayn. He had spiraled downwards into something that he couldn't describe as being depression, more like, emptiness. He felt nothing. Nothing affected him and no-one's cruel words offended him in anyway. He was verging on psychopathic, Louis would say jocularly.

But with this new job as a butler to this model, Abella Desrosiers, Harry's mind would be elsewhere and for that, he was thankful.

-

They arrived in a cloud of hairspray and coffee aromas. The clink of their heels on the lobby's floors could be heard throughout the entire hotel and as the receptionist sat in her baggy suit and dowdy glasses, one could empathise with her for feeling inadequate as a woman in comparison to these 6 foot, skinny beauties sauntering across the lobby. 

Shrieks of delight echoed in the lobby as their voices bounced off of the glass ceiling. Harry and Liam stood outside with a select few of the staff as Mr. Hawthorne found it only right to provide the ladies with a guard of honor. Despite them being of no importance whatsoever.

As Harry stood tall and proud opposite Liam, it was easy for him to avert his gaze from the women but as his eyes landed on Liam, he only barely contained a laugh as Liam's mouth hung open slightly with his eyes following a woman who Harry guessed had tickled Liam's fancy even more so than any of the others.

As Mr. Hawthorne ushered his staff back into the confines of the lobby, he plastered a grin on his face as the women gathered in a large group in the center of the lobby.

He clapped his hands together to draw their attention and once all eyes were on him, he began briefing the girls about what they can or can't do in the Lanesborough, and he introduced each girl to their assigned butler.

Once the majority of the girls were allocated their Suites and had begun to fill the elevators, Harry was introduced to Abella by Mr. Hawthorne.

She was a slim girl, much like the rest, no older than nineteen and she had piercing blue eyes. Her blonde hair cascaded down her shoulders and from her accent, Harry gathered she was french. "It's lovely to meet you, Ms. Desrosiers," Harry took her hand and politely shook it. "My name is Mr. Styles and I'll be your butler for the duration of your stay here at the Lanesborough."

Her eyes widened and she clapped her hands together with a smile supplanted on her face, "Oh, wonderful!"

After her telling Harry that she'd prefer to take a nap rather than have him in the Suite at that moment, Harry agreed to come up later in the night to tend to her needs.

"Mister, eh, Styles?" she paused before she went to walk away. "Is it alright for my boyfriend to stay with me in the Suite?" she asked, batting her eyelashes in the case that no, she wasn't allowed but with using her looks to her utmost advantage, she would most definitely be allowed. But her flirtatious ways had no effect on Harry, and he simply said that yes, her boyfriend could inhabit the Royal Suite.

This news may as well have been that she had won a million dollars because the model squealed ecstatically and as she went to walk away, Harry heard her on her phone, "You can come on up now, babe!"

-

"I should go up to Abella now," Harry excused himself from the table after losing yet another game of cards. Louis had won, as per usual, and Niall sat nursing a beer despite his shift not being over yet. Louis' saying was always "When Liam's away, Niall will play." 

"I need to meet Ms. Desrosiers, Haz. The name's familiar, though," Louis dealt himself another hand and chucked cards at a drowsy Niall in the corner who promptly grabbed the cards and shifted forward to play with Louis. "Have fun with your model!" he called after Harry as the brunette made his way up to the Suite.

-

A womanly smell invaded Harry's nostrils the second he entered the Suite. Her belongings were kept relatively neat, except for an Xbox chucked haphazardly on the sofa.

Harry frowned. She didn't seem like the type of woman who liked video games, but Harry wasn't one to pass judgement. As he made his way further into the Suite, something else caught his eye. Men's clothes. Her boyfriend's, of course, but they were familiar.

For some reason, Harry's heart began to beat fast and he felt reflexively stretched his fingers and clenched his fists.

Laughter wafted from the bedroom, Abella's and a male's. "I could live here," Harry heard her say to her boyfriend.

Giggling ensued and mutterings of, "Not now, stop it!" as she supposedly wrestled her boyfriend off of her.

"You know you want to," said her boyfriend.

Harry's heart dropped. That voice, that one voice he'd never thought nor hoped he would hear again. It was him. He was here. 

Instinctively, Harry took a step back, and his intent was to make a beeline for the door, to get out, and to get out as quickly as possible before any damage was done.

But as the door creaked open and as he made his way to the kitchen, Harry shut his eyes, squeezed them shut and imagined he was somewhere else. 

He heard movement behind him, but couldn't bring himself to look.

"...Harry?" his tentative, silky voice pierced the air quietly.

And as Harry turned around to face him, he couldn't speak.

The box in his mind was brimming over. All the hatred and the anguish was threatening to spill out and just attack. He wanted to cause harm, serious harm. But as brown eyes searched his face for any recognition, Harry forced himself to stay in control.

He had let his hair grown out, Harry noted. And he had more facial hair than before. He held a cigarette loosely in his hand and for some reason, he was shorter. Either that, or Harry was taller.

Shaking himself out of his reverie, Harry looked Zayn dead in the eyes.

Abella came up behind Zayn, and as her hand snaked across Zayn's back, up onto his shoulder, Harry felt the green-eyed monster wanting to break free within him.

With his gaze piercing Zayn's, and Zayn's obvious change in composure, Harry realised why he was there.

As he bowed down slowly, then brought himself back up, again, his glare pierced Zayn's.

"Good evening, Sir. My name is Mr. Styles and I'll be your butler for the duration of your stay here at the Lanesborough," and as he held out his hand slowly for Zayn to shake his, he noticed the twitch in Zayn's eyebrow which indicated his confusion about the situation.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Malik," Harry continued as he ended the handshake and took a step back.

He mirrored the words he had once said to Zayn a year previous, and as Zayn replied quietly, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Styles," Harry smiled at Zayn, then at Abella.

"Enjoy your stay!" were Harry's last words before he proudly left the Suite and left Zayn to dwell on what had just occurred between the two of them.


	13. On Your Knees.

After Harry came unsuspectingly across Zayn, he had stayed far away from the Royal Suite, which earned him an earful from Liam, who threatened to sack him. Harry knew he was all talk and no action, so the threats weren't as menacing as one would think.

He'd seen Zayn at breakfast days later and had served him, but hadn't said a word to him.

Zayn's gaze was fixed on Harry as he poured him a glass of orange juice, and as Zayn offered a tentative greeting, Harry's response was to simply nod and walk away.

Admittedly, he wasn't entirely sure what it was he was trying to achieve by ignoring Zayn. He knew why he was doing it, but not what the bonus was for ignoring him. Given Zayn's illustrious ways in the year since they'd last spoken, Harry was still bitter and resentful towards Zayn. But he was still incredibly fond of him. 

There were nights where he'd be unable to sleep, tossing restlessly in his bed, wreathed in sweat. He hadn't come into contact with a single soul since Zayn's departure, and to put it plainly, Harry was horny.

Such strong desires were absent from his life prior to Mr. Malik. He never knew what raw, burning passion felt like. But once he garnered a taste from Zayn, he found himself hooked.

His own hand in the dark hours of the night did not satiate these desires and he often found himself picturing Zayn as he stroked himself off. Once he reached his climax, he would curse himself and berate himself for picturing his former lover. But he found it addictive. He imagined bizarre scenarios with Zayn, one involving Zayn breathless and sweaty after a concert and ravishing himself, another far more racy.

He was mad at Zayn, of course. But his cock ached for him.

As he strode out into the cool night air, Harry pulled his collar up around his face in an attempt to shield himself from the blustery wind. His night was going to consist of watching some crap on the telly and then retreating to his bed when said crap just went beyond being crap.

But as he made his way across the yard at the back of the hotel, he spotted a shadow in the darkness.

Halting, Harry felt his heart skip a beat. He always was afraid of nighttime London, he never knew what went on in the dark hours, but as he a wavering voice piped up with a tentative, "Harry?" he was relieved.

Zayn made his way over to Harry, and made a point to not go too close up to the butler. When they stood in front of each other, Zayn dug his hands into his pockets and waited.

Harry had no intention of saying the first words in, what was bound to be, a lengthy conversation and so waited patiently. "Hi," Zayn said, with a tight smile, Harry noted from the tone of his voice.

"Hello," he responded and glanced around the yard, avoiding looking directly at Zayn.

"I've got some explaining to do," Zayn said quietly, towards which Harry tilted his head and raised his eyebrows. "You've got that right," he replied and made his way out into the lane-way leading away from the hotel.

Trees hung over the pathway and as Harry leant against the dilapidated doorway, he could make out the familiar shape of Zayn's quiff-ed hair. "Well," Zayn began, stepping forward towards Harry and quietly appreciating the fact that Harry didn't make any motion to instinctively move away from him.

"I guess I'll start from the beginning," he glanced up at Harry and noticed him looking up at the trees above him, but continued on despite Harry's apparent lack of interest in what it was that he wanted to say, "My reason for leaving abruptly isn't a valid reason for me to abandon you..." he paused, trying to collect his thoughts.

"I guess I just wanted our goodbye to be easy- Or, that we didn't have a goodbye," Zayn kicked aimlessly at the pile of leaves by his feet, "Because I knew that if I were actually to say goodbye to you, that it'd kill me inside... And it fucking did, Harry, when I left that Suite last year I felt fucking terrible, and that's not me bullshitting. I've never felt such, such-" Zayn motioned with his hands, with a frown on his face as he attempted to find the word he was looking for, "Such loss in my whole life-"

"If you've never felt such "loss" in your life before then why on earth did you not contact me and then go off and have at least boyfriends and girlfriends since then?" Harry seemed aggravated and Zayn sighed deeply. It wasn't going to end well, Zayn knew it.

"Even if I did contact you, how would we have gotten together? I was promoting the new album so I couldn't book the Suite to see you, and having you come visit me was out of the question. I didn't contact you because it would've made it harder to be away from you had I heard your voice, your laugh..." Zayn trailed off, and hesitated a glance at Harry.

He studied Zayn with those emerald eyes, and Zayn knew he was nowhere near forgiving him. "As for my relationships, they were all meaningless, hell, the first guy I was with stole money out of my wallet whilst I slept and hopped out the bedroom window, and as for the girls, they were just objects to satiate my needs, that's all, Harry."

"The papers sure didn't make them out to be 'meaningless'," Harry bit back. Zayn's eyebrows raised in a way that suggested he was shocked at Harry's belief in the tabloids. "One of them said I wanted to marry one of the girls, Harry, I mean come on."

Harry simply shrugged his shoulders and pulled his jacket tighter around himself as a gust of wind attacked his curls and tousled them ferociously. Zayn saw this, and bit down on his lip. Regret wasn't the apt word to describe how Zayn was feeling, he was far more regretful than Harry could imagine.

Harry continued telling Zayn how shocked and how angry he was that Zayn had found it so easy to just leave, and as Zayn stood and listened to each and everyone one of Harry's scruples, he so very badly wanted to fix those wayward curls of Harry's, to stroke his jaw and tell him that he'd never do it again, that the two of them should just move to the countryside and shut themselves off from the rest of the world. 

"I ended it with Abella," Zayn said sometime later as they both stood silently, collecting their thoughts and controlling each of their emotions.

Harry's gaze left the ground and shot up to meet Zayn's, "You did?" Zayn nodded and chanced a move toward Harry, so that they both now leant nonchalantly against the wall.

"Once I saw you I knew she didn't really matter to me and that she was just there for the wrong reasons," he continued and noticed a change in Harry's demeanor. 

Zayn moved in front of Harry now, and as he reached for the butler's hand, he was pleased when Harry didn't recoil. "Give me a second chance, Harry, please," he tried to not come across as being desperate, but at this point, his desperation was hard to keep at bay.

Harry's fingers were cold in his and as Harry pulled his hand away, Zayn felt physically sick. He'd messed it up. The only person he'd ever truly felt strongly about now hated him and wouldn't even give him the time of day. "Please," Zayn said again, his fingers steepling under his chin in an effort to convey his distress.

But when Harry took a step closer to him, Zayn remained hopeful, "Promise me you'll never leave," Harry said, his voice stern. Zayn nodded with urgency and repeated Harry's words as he took up Harry's hand again and felt relief coarse through his entire body as Harry squeezed back. "Promise me you won't cavort with anyone except me," he went on and paused as Zayn repeated Harry's words.

Zayn was elated. "Promise me that you'll be honest, loyal and trustworthy," and as Zayn repeated the last words and added a soft, relieved "Harry," Harry took a hold of Zayn's other hand and leant forward to whisper in his ear.

"And promise me you'll make up for your behaviour in your house tonight," and as he pulled away and spied that familiar predatory glare in Zayn's eyes, Harry found himself smiling.

Zayn's grin was on the verge of being menacing, but as he let out a throaty laugh and allowed himself the pleasure of pushing a stray curl from Harry's forehead, he nodded slowly and whispered, "I promise..." his right hand rested on Harry's side, and gripped the material of Harry's coat, and pulled Harry closer so that their chests touched beautifully, "To indulge you in my house and make you say my name over," his left hand traced Harry's jaw, starting at his ear and stroking downwards before making its way to Harry's plump lips, "And over," Harry's eyes shut in response to the sensation of Zayn caressing him, "And over," Zayn leant forward and planted a simple kiss on Harry's cheek before pulling away entirely and stepping back away from Harry altogether, "...Again," and as Zayn turned on his heels and made his way down the shrouded pathway, Harry allowed himself to take a deep breath, followed by the release of a shaky breath.

Oh, how he missed Zayn's delectable dominant foreplay. But with the way Zayn had been acting in the last year, Harry had every intention to play hard to get, just to rile Zayn up.

-

Zayn's house wasn't what Harry had expected it to look like at all. In his mind, he'd pictured a mansion of sorts with a long, winding driving leading up to said driveway. The house was a far cry from what he'd imagined, but he preferred this house. It was so very "Zayn-like."

It was a simple studio apartment decorated gloriously with modern furnishings, and as Harry had guessed, it was clear that Zayn didn't have a maid.

Zayn led Harry into his apartment by the hand, switching on the lights as he went, but leaving the one in the sitting room off and allowing light from the kitchen to provide them with enough light to at least see each other.

"I hope no-one saw me coming in with you," Harry said offhandedly as Zayn offered to remove his jacket and then went about removing his own before putting the kettle on. It was strange seeing Zayn do actual homely things, and Harry smirked to himself as Zayn grabbed a dishcloth and gave his cup a swift wipe.

"Do you take sugar in your tea, or-" but Zayn was abruptly caught off guard as a pair of hands snaked around his waist and a pair of lips landed on the right side of his neck. Harry hummed against Zayn's skin and muttered, "You've gotten shorter," towards which Zayn scoffed and punched Harry in the thigh.

"I haven't, you've just gotten taller!" Zayn explained as he maneuvered himself in Harry's arms so that he now faced Harry with his arse against the counter-top and his arms wrapped comfortably around Harry's waist, his hands locking behind Harry's back. 

Harry laughed at Zayn's insistence that he hadn't shrunk and as Zayn went up on his tip-toes to kiss Harry softly, his butler's hands went to Zayn's face and marveled at the stubble gracing Zayn's sculpted cheeks.

"Come on, then," Harry said into the kiss as Zayn pulled away and leant his forehead against Harry's, "Get on with it," he continued.

"Don't make out like you don't want this, Mr. Styles," Zayn fake-scolded Harry for him urging Zayn to hurry up. "I want to savour this, to savour you, most of all," he said as his index finger went to Harry's temple and traveled down his cheek, to his jaw where he drew a small X and leant up to kiss the invisible X gently.

Harry kept quiet after that and had decided that he was going to allow Zayn to instruct his actions, so as he stood stoic and prim in front of Zayn, his lips curled into a devilish grin as he caught a flash of recognition on Zayn's face as he realised what it was that Harry wanted him to do.

As Zayn dropped to his knees and his hands went quickly to Harry's trousers, Harry batted his hands away. Joining Zayn on the floor, he lifted his eyebrows to signal Zayn to get up and as Zayn, once again, realised what it was he wanted him to do, he stood up as Harry remained in place on his knees. 

"You're feeling feisty, Mr. Styles," said Zayn, his voice sounding low as he pushed down his trousers and kicked them to the side.

Taking a firm grip of Harry's hair, he pulled his butler up to meet him face to face, gently, so as not to cause harm, and as Harry groaned into the kiss, Zayn had concluded that Harry just fucking loved to be dominated.

"Whore," Zayn mumbled into the kiss as his cock brushed against Harry's thigh. His butler nodded in acquiescence before he was pushed back down onto his knees and before he knew it, his mouth was full of Zayn's shaft.

The vibrations from Harry's moans drove Zayn insane, and with one hand resting on his hip and the other guiding Harry by using his hair, Zayn's head involuntarily fell back as he released a guttural groan. 

He gave an experimental thrust into Harry's mouth, and as he didn't recoil, he repeated the action and bit back a cry as Harry's eyes rolled into the back of his head whilst his own hand went quickly up and down his cock. "Yes," Zayn whispered as his thrusts become more frequent and droplets of sweat formed on Harry's forehead.

"At least when you're on your knees, I'm taller," Zayn managed to joke with a smile. Pulling away and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Harry erupted into laughter as he replaced his mouth with his hand, moving slowly up and down. 

Zayn laughed in response and as Harry called him an idiot, he took Zayn into his mouth once again and within 20 seconds, Zayn's hands were buried within Harry's hair and gripping - hard. Harry's eyes squeezed shut as Zayn fucked his mouth incessantly and as Zayn pulled away, stumbling as he recovered from his climax, proudly, Harry swallowed and stood back up.

Presenting his empty mouth to a breathless Zayn, he replied with a breathy response of, "Whore," before collecting himself and coming into contact with Harry, chest-to-chest.

"Your turn," Zayn said with a grin as he turned Harry around by the shoulders and pushed him towards the sofa in the living room, adding a slap on his arse for good measure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Incredibly sorry this took so long, I have exams soon and have been kept busy studying, unfortunately. Hope you enjoyed it!


	14. Don't Leave.

He'd left Zayn's place as soon as he'd awaken the next morning - his shoulders hunched and his heart heavy. The night was a blur, much to Harry's despair. The last thing he remembered Zayn saying was something along the lines of, "I'll never leave again," but he couldn't be positive that such promising words were uttered or whether he had simply dreamed of Zayn saying the words he so yearned for him to say.

He had an early shift, and as he tugged on his waistcoat in the men's changing rooms in the basement of the Lanesborough, thoughts filled Harry's mind. He desperately wanted for himself and Zayn to work out, but knew that because of his circumstances, it was set to fail from the outset. 

Thinking Zayn was likely to stop by the Lanesborough sooner or later that day, Harry mentally prepared himself for the worst. Either Zayn was going to tell him that his schedule allowed for him to stay put in London for the coming weeks, or he was going to drop a bomb and say that he was going on tour for the next 7 months.

Lost in thought, Harry lazily draped his tie around his neck as he heard the door behind him swing open, and in waltzed a rather tired looking Niall.

Nodding his head in acknowledgement to Harry, Niall plonked himself down on the purple plush chair by the door, eyeing up Harry all the while as the Butler continued to make himself look appropriate for the day. He was quiet for a while, was happy in the comfortable silence, but Niall wasn't one to remain quiet for long.

"You fucked him didn't you?" he asked out of the blue - no sugarcoating whatsoever. Typical Niall, really. Harry never so much as flinched at Niall's harsh words. He scoffed at that as he imagined that his old self would've probably had heart failure had he heard such a vulgar term used, in relation to his own actions even. 

Kneeling down on the ground to buff his shoes, Harry said nothing, which Niall construed as a confirmation of his suspicions. "Jesus Christ, Harry-"

"Look, Niall, don't start, please. Just... Don't," Harry interrupted Niall's qualms rather fiercely. A stubborn scuff on his shoes refused to be lifted, and as he threw the shoe polish and cloth across the room, he caught Niall's startled jump in the corner of his eye. 

"I know what you're going to say. He's bad for me, for my work, It'll never work," Harry paused, turning to face Niall now, "But he makes me happy, which pretty much negates any worries I have about him hurting me again. He likes me Niall. Like, _really_ likes me. And I'm convinced that I'm infatuated with him, if not in love with him."

He picked nervously at his nail beds as he waited for Niall's reaction, which to Harry, was crucial. If Niall didn't approve, then there was surely no hope in Liam or Louis approving. 

Niall stood up from his place, and stared at Harry - just stared. "You realise that he's not going to wait around for you, right?" he asked.

Hesitating, Harry shuffled on his feet, before nodding and sighing deeply. "I'm going to have to quit, Niall," Harry said as his eyes stayed plastered to the floor, unable to meet Niall's judging blues. 

He heard Niall sniffle, and refused to look at him for the ultimate fear that he would be crying. "Harry," he said eventually, but stopped as he mulled over his words. "You're made for this, being a butler. What are you going to do if you go to him? Are you going to go with him on his tours and stay hidden in the back away from everyone? Be introduced as "his friend" constantly? You'll never have a normal relationship with him, you know that yeah?" 

Harry had noticed the subtle crack in Niall's words, had chosen to ignore it, but in truth, he felt sick. Physically sick. He felt like his heart had been ripped in two, as if Zayn had taken hold of the left atrium, and Niall the right, and both had pulled until his heart had torn in two. He saw the look on Niall's face, and felt his stomach churn.

"I need to go to him," Harry whispered.

"You don't _need_ to go to that bastard or to anyone for that matter-"

"Don't call him that," Harry said through gritted teeth. His head was pounding now, and his vision unclear.

"He abandoned you Harry don't you fucking remember?! He left for a WHOLE YEAR! That cunt never even thought to contact you, tell you where he went, nothing-"

Harry had enough. Grabbing for his clothes, Harry pushed past Niall forcefully. "Harry, will you just wait? Can't you see that your relationship with him is far from healthy?"

Harry shook his head. "He cares for me, what's so unhealthy about that?"

"You're fucking obsessed with him!" Niall was shouting now, his cheeks going red from the exhilaration and his accent becoming thicker and difficult to construe as the curse words came flying out of his mouth. He gripped Harry's bicep, much to Harry's despair. All he wanted was to get as far away from the Lanesborough as he could and as quickly as possible. 

"You can't let a person dictate your feelings and well-being, Harry. Zayn has brought out the worst in you, he really has. Before him, you were dedicated to your job and gave it one hundred per cent, but recently Harry, recently, you've barely been fully _there_ ," Niall paused momentarily, taking a deep breath as Harry felt his eyes begin to burn and his throat beginning to become constricting. "Your work has been sloppy at best and you know what, Harry? Mr. Hawthorne had even said to Liam that he should fire you when he had the next opportunity."

Niall had truly dropped that one like a tonne of bricks. Harry felt angry now, furious, even. "I..." Harry stopped himself, fearing he'd say something he'd regret. "Was Liam going to fire me today?" Harry asked quietly.

Niall didn't reply at first, but as he gave a lazy shrug of his shoulders, the wind in Harry's lungs whooshed out in one long gust. The two stood in silence, Harry near tears and Niall only now realising what he'd just done.

Clearing his throat, Harry straightened himself up, determined not to lose more of his pride than he'd already lost. "Liam won't need to fire me, Niall, don't worry, because I quit," he said calmly, with an undertone of ignorance as he let the clothes in his arms drop to the ground.

"Harry, no-" Niall shouted after him as he pushed past him and walked quickly out into the courtyard. As the fresh air hit him, as he feared, Harry ducked behind one of the dumpsters, keeled over and heaved. His throat burned and his clothes felt mismatched. His attire was not suitable for that of a newly unemployed Butler. 

The feeling of inadequacy overcame him suddenly and to prevent himself from having a full-blown emotional breakdown, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed the number.

"Hello?" came the sleepy voice on the end of the line. He'd obviously not even been awake yet and probably never even noticed Harry's absence. 

Despite the large lump in his throat, Harry managed to croak out, "I quit," before breaking down in floods of tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you spy any mistakes, please be a dear and point them out to me.


	15. Guard Yourself.

Why did he do that? Why, oh why did he have to do that?

His knees felt weak as he rushed across the lobby of the Lanesborough, avoiding eye contact with the familiar faces behind the reception desk, fixing the chandelier, and taking down decorations from the recent fashion show. 

He tugged his coat collar over his face and dug his hands into his pockets. He hadn't planned on quitting his job, but his emotions had got the better of him and how he wished they hadn't. Half of him wanted to march up to Liam and beg for his job back, to apologise to Niall, but the other half was telling him to just shut up. If he wanted to be around Zayn more often and form a relationship with him, he needed to not be in a twenty four hour, seven days a week job.

_Form a relationship with Zayn._

His stomach lurched at the thought. The idea of being in a relationship with Zayn was constantly on Harry's mind, but he doubted that Zayn had given the two of them together any thought whatsoever. And for that, Harry was sad.

Feeling glum, he made the decision to visit Zayn. And as he approached the steps to Zayn's apartment, no sooner had he arrived before the front door swung open and out bounded a rather shocked looking Zayn.

As soon as he reached Harry, he'd taken the brunette in his arms with such force that Harry had stumbled backwards and yelped in surprise. Zayn's fingers dug into his back fiercely. "Harry," he sighed with what he perceived was relief... Or disappointment? "Why did you quit," he whispered again, nuzzling his nose into Harry's curls and taking in the scent he so loved.

"We should go inside," Harry said quietly, looking behind Zayn's back for any traces of paparazzi lurking about the place. 

Zayn was all hands on. He took Harry's jacket from him and escorted him to the sofa, before offering to make him tea and telling him rather pointedly that what he had done was "stupid."

Harry felt as if now was the time to let him know why exactly he had quit. The Lanesborough was his livelihood, and butterflies fluttered uncontrollably in his stomach as he realised he now had no place to stay and that all of his belongings were in the staff quarters of the hotel. He should've planned this better, he thought.

"Here," Zayn said as he gently placed a mug of steaming tea into Harry's hands, "My mum said that sweet tea calms any qualms or worries you may have, I don't know if it's true..." He trailed off, embarrassed at his knowledge on the subject. Harry couldn't help but smile to himself.

After taking a sip, Harry forced himself not to grimace at the sweetness of the tea, and instead complimented Zayn on his efforts. "It's funny," he said, a laugh threatening to burst from his lips.

Zayn's face softened, "What?"

" _You_ making _me_ tea, for once," he replied, looking to Zayn, who's face lit up at his words. 

"It's about time I did something for you, after all you've done for me in the Lanesborough, and... Elsewhere," Zayn added with a glint in his eye, as Harry very nearly choked on his tea. 

They sat in silence for a bit, gathering themselves for the inevitable conversation about what was going to happen next. 

Expecting Harry to talk first, Zayn waited... And waited, but he remained quiet and Zayn grew more and more curious, until he eventually broke the silence, "Why did you quit your job, Harry?"

Harry paused. He figured Zayn would know why he quit, thought it was obvious, but like it was in the past, Zayn seemed to be a bit dim when it came to how Harry thought and went about things.

"Why do you think I quit, Zayn?" Harry asked, his tone coming across as being somewhat condescending. And intentionally so.

Zayn shuffled uncomfortably in his seat, "Your wages are bad?"

Harry's mouth very nearly dropped open at Zayn's answer. "No," he said quietly, hoping in his heart that Zayn would catch on and realise that what he did was for them, but more-so, for Zayn himself. He supposed that the feelings were mutual, and that Zayn was equally as fond of Harry as he was of Zayn... But doubt suddenly washed over him, as his palms began to sweat and his teeth began working on his lower lip out of nervousness.

"Oh, well, is it because you just didn't like it anymore?" Zayn tried again, and failed... Again.

Anger shot through Harry's veins suddenly, as he dug his fingernails into his palms angrily, "No, Zayn," Harry said through gritted teeth as he stood up from his seat and walked over to the window, wishing that he could jump out then and there. But instead, he reached up and opened the window, letting the cold air waft into the apartment in an attempt to cool himself, as he felt his body temperature begin to rise and rise.

"No need to be such a snark," Zayn said, under his breath. But Harry heard him, _oh_ did he hear him.

"Excuse me?" 

"Never mind," Zayn muttered as he collected Harry's empty mug up off of the coffee table and pushed past Harry to get to the kitchen.

Right. "Do you want to know why I quit, Zayn?" Harry asked heatedly, hands on hips and attention focused solely on Zayn.

Zayn turned around to face him, rolling his eyes before doing so. "I didn't quit because 'the wages were bad,' or because," Harry paused, tried to pace himself as he felt as if he was on the brink of an emotional breakdown, "'I didn't like my job,' do you know me at all?" he scoffed at Zayn's ridiculous remarks.

Zayn frowned, "Of course, Harry, I'm sor-" 

"Don't. Say that," Harry replied, raising a hand to silence Zayn and shutting his eyes as he stayed working at keeping himself calm. Clearly he wasn't doing a very good job at keeping himself calm.

"I fucking quit my job," he paused, eyes landing on Zayn who continued to look lost and confused, which only made him angrier. He really had no clue. He raised his hand and pointed at Zayn, "Because of _you_ ," he said, grimacing as his voice betrayed him and cracked at the end of his sentence.

"What? Harry that's ridiculous, why-"

"It's not fucking ridiculous, Zayn!" Harry's tone heightened, "Do you really not get it? Or are you just playing dumb?"

Zayn felt not only shocked at Harry's sudden outburst, but confused. His demeanor was a sharp contrast to his usual casual self. Now, his shoulders were tense and his fists clenched as he came under fire. "Explain it to me, then," he said quietly, fearing that if he were to curse or raise his voice that Harry would walk out the door there and then.

Harry took a deep breath, "I did it for you, all of it for you. God, that day when you stayed in the Lanesborough, I never fucking thought that I'd end up not only sleeping with you, but," Harry paused, shutting his eyes in reservation as the lump in his throat betrayed him and forced his words out of his mouth in shaky, desperate breaths, "but _fucking_ falling in love with you," Harry said as a sob escaped from his lips and his hand shot up to cover his mouth in dismay.

To his horror, tears that had yet to fall were in Zayn's eyes. His arms were crossed as a form of protection, and his brow furrowed. "Harry," he sighed dreamily, as a tear escaped and trickled down his left cheek. He was even beautiful when he cried, Harry cursed to himself.

"Why don't you share your thoughts with me, ever?" Zayn asked, and made an advance towards Harry, but he was having none of it. Harry took a step back as Zayn took a step forward, "I try! I just," he paused, trying to collect himself, "What you have to say and tell me about is always so much more compelling than what I have to say."

Zayn looked crushed. "That doesn't mean that I don't want to hear from you."

He stepped forward again, and Harry didn't back away this time. "Why do you guard yourself from me?" He reached out a hand to rest softly on Harry's shoulder, and Harry allowed him to come closer.

"Do you not remember the past year, Zayn?" Harry asked, his tone monotone. Zayn froze, his hand now resting unsurely on his shoulder. "When you _left_ me, when you got a girlfriend, when you never contacted me once-"

"Baby-"

"DON'T," Harry exclaimed as he pushed Zayn's hand off of his shoulder and put both hands over his mouth to prevent sobs of despair from escaping from his mouth, "Don't call me baby, please don't, not now," Harry whispered and tried so very hard to not implant the image of Zayn's hurt, devastated face on his brain.

"I dream about you, talk about you, think about you during every waking moment and I just need to be with you," Harry whimpered as Zayn tentatively took hold of his hand. He gripped Zayn's fingers loosely, "That's why I quit, because if I'm working all day and all night, how am I ever supposed to be with you for long periods of time?" 

Zayn lifted Harry's hand to his lips, and kissed each individual knuckle with such gentleness and care. Harry bit down hard on his lip. He wanted to push Zayn away from him, knew that he shouldn't let him touch him for his carelessness, but he couldn't bring himself to pull his hand away.

"Shh," Zayn said against the top of Harry's hand, turning his head and rubbing his cheek against it. "I think about you as well, Harry, of course I do," he paused, looking up into Harry's clear eyes, "But I've been hammering the idea of us never being together into my head for so long that the thought of us _actually_ being together is a shock to the system, to say the least."

Harry nodded as he began to feel himself calm down from his emotion-fueled outburst. "Do you love me?" Harry whispered as he allowed himself to reach up and brush a finger across Zayn's cheek.

Zayn's eyes shut as he felt Harry's finger ghost across his skin, and as he opened his eyes, Harry spied a darkness in them that had not been present before. Zayn nodded solemnly as he snaked a tentative hand around Harry's waist and pulled him flat against his chest. "I do, I do."

Harry tried to smile, but couldn't. He was far too aware of the hurt that he had caused him in the past, so if Zayn admitted his love for Harry, he'd need to prove it.

"You believe me, don't you?" Zayn asked, his fingers digging into Harry's waistband. Harry jumped at the cold of Zayn's fingers against his skin.

"I might, if you can make me believe that you love me," Harry said as he lifted his hands up and around Zayn's shoulders. "Make me believe that quitting my job was the best idea of my life," Harry went on, his tone becoming more playful and his stature becoming less tense.

Zayn smirked. "You and I aren't good for each other, you know that, right?" he said, resting his forehead against Harry's and breathing in deeply as Harry's hands went to his back pockets.

"We really aren't," Harry replied in agreement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holidays! Which means updates will (hopefully) be flowing. Thanks for reading.


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